Marv and Pru’s wedding was treated by a large percentage of the Gaberones population as an excuse for a monumental piss-up. Most of them knew Alex, a handful had met Marv and no-one at all had laid eyes on Pru until a few days before the event. Not that this mattered. Hard working, hard living, hard drinking men and women, pioneers in a land poised on the brink of independence, many unwelcome in South Africa because they were believers in majority rule, most of them were warm, open-hearted lovers of a happy ending. The material things in life had no real relevance to these people. They were larger than life for the most part, basic in the extreme, loyal to their friends and generous to a fault. God help anyone who got off side with them but it seemed like heaven smiled on those they called friends. Alex was considered one of them. Marv fitted in perfectly. Even Pru was enough of a character to be welcomed immediately, they liked her open manner and blunt way of speaking. That two of their numbers had decided to marry met with their wholehearted approval.
The change in Pru was just short of a miracle. In the two months she had known Marv she was a completely different person. She had always been candid; God help those who asked for her opinion because she just came right out and gave it, irrespective of whether feelings got hurt or not. That hadn’t changed. It was part of her personality and, very often, her directness put a different perspective on something which was both refreshing and plausible. However, the facade she had developed to protect herself had gone and with it, the snobbery, the barbed remarks and the continual references to her parents. For the first time in her life, Pru believed in her own worth. Chrissy and Alex tried to figure it out.
‘We know it was the night they got pissed together, right?’
She nodded. ‘At some stage that night they got fed up with arguing and started relating to each other.’
‘They’re both square pegs in round holes. Maybe that’s it.’
Chrissy thought about it. ‘He’s the only person she’s ever met who’s had the guts to tell her to shut up. That certainly got her attention. Then he said her parents were boring.’
Alex grinned. ‘A pet rock wasn’t it?’
‘Trust Marv.’ She grinned back. ‘He kept asking her about her. He kept forcing her to talk about herself. Even when they were arguing he kept bringing the conversation back to her. By the time they were into their fourth bottle of wine she was probably too relaxed to be anything other than herself.’
‘And she liked it?’
‘Think about it. She’s been pushed away and criticised, ignored and shut out all her life. There she was out in the middle of the desert, under the stars in a strange land with a man who appeared hell bent on listening to her, valuing what she had to say and, above all, was not toadying to her.’ She smiled. ‘Instinctive is not a word that immediately springs to mind about Marv but, by letting her know that he found her attractive and interesting but wasn’t about to let her walk all over him, he was acting instinctively.’
Alex nodded. ‘He certainly got it right.’
She agreed. ‘Marv will love her for the rest of her life. She knows that. That’s heady stuff for a girl who has spent twenty-five years trying to get noticed.’
‘They’re good together, that’s for sure.’
‘They’re perfect together.’
He nearly said more but changed his mind. He had a plan.
Pru’s parents had wired that they couldn’t attend the wedding. Pru showed the telegram to Chrissy. CAN’T MAKE WEDDING (STOP) OTHER COMMITMENTS (STOP) DADDY IS SENDING PRESENT (STOP) BEST WISHES (STOP) MUMMY.
‘A present!’ Chrissy was horrified by the impersonal message.
‘She means money,’ Pru said curtly. ‘It’s too vulgar to mention in a telegram.’
Chrissy hugged her. ‘Are you upset?’
Pru frowned at the message. ‘I’m cross.’ She screwed up the telegram and threw it across the room. ‘To hell with them,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ve got Marv.’
It was a beautiful day in May. An endless blue sky, not a whisper of breeze, with a hint of autumn in the air. Pru looked a dream in white silk. Marv was distinguished and proud. The ceremony was simple and short. Alex, standing next to Marv in the church, only had eyes for Chrissy as she followed Pru down the aisle.
A small party of invited guests, and a very large number of the Gaberones crowd who believed it their moral duty, toasted the future of Mr and Mrs Moine at the Notwane Club afterwards.
Marv’s family had come from South Africa—mother, father, a sister and two brothers. When his mother, with her arm around Pru, said, ‘Isn’t it lovely, now I have two daughters,’ Alex thought Pru would burst into tears of happiness.
The next day Alex drove Chrissy out of town to a place he had found several years earlier. ‘This place is the next best thing to being in the desert,’ he told her.
She looked around. ‘It’s got a kind of serenity.’
Trees, taller than most, threw shade on areas which appeared to have been cleared at some stage. Gaps in the bush allowed a view off to the west. In the wild hard land that made up the eastern edge of the Kalahari, the little glen had a softness, as though the hand of God had gently passed by, bestowing a calming effect on the rugged wilderness.
‘Come.’ He held his hand out to her and she took it. He led her up a slight rise, along a shaded grassy path.
‘What is this place?’ Old ruins of several buildings lay in crumbling neglect.
‘This is Kolobeng. David Livingstone built his mission and school here.’
‘My God!’ She rubbed her hand softly across a fallen, hand-hewn rock. ‘Are you sure?’ she whispered. ‘It feels like angels walk here.’
He could see the place was having the same effect on her as it always did on him. The enormity of where they were standing always filled him with awe.
‘I wasn’t always sure. But a couple of months ago I found something else.’ He tugged on her hand and she followed him. ‘Just down this path there’s proof.’
The tiny graveyard was overgrown. Little wooden crosses leaned sideways. No writing remained on them. There was no clue as to who was buried there. Then he pointed out the granite headstone. Like the others, it was leaning crazily sideways but, unlike the others, the stone had been carved. He moved towards it.
‘Wait.’
He turned his head. ‘Come on, I’ll show you.’
‘No,’ she whispered. ‘No, Alex. Come away, please.’ She had gone white.
‘What’s wrong?’ He squeezed her hand.
‘Can we go somewhere else?’
So they drove about a mile, to a shaded spot where a permanent creek crossed the road and grassy banks provided excellent picnic places. He had packed a hamper and borrowed a blanket and he led her to a flat piece of ground which gave them a view of the creek through the trees but was sufficiently off the road so anyone passing would not know they were there. He fussed over her, poured some wine, sat down next to her and said, ‘Talk to me, Chrissy. Why do you shy away whenever I talk about our future?’
‘That little grave. It was a child wasn’t it?’
He wondered if she was stalling again but she had seemed so affected by the sight of the cemetery that he let it go. ‘It was one of Livingstone’s children. You can read the dates. A girl. About three.’
‘Poor little thing. To be left out there alone like that. It doesn’t seem right.’
‘You said yourself, the place has serenity.’
‘I know,’ she said sadly. ‘It’s just so wild and lonely.’
‘She’s happy . . . you can’t feel sadness there, just peace and love. Good things took place there. The land reflects it.’
‘How do you know?’
‘!Ka taught me to respect my instincts.’
She smiled at him. ‘I felt peace there too. It just seemed wrong to disturb the place.’ She shrugged and looked down at the rippling water in the creek. ‘I don’t know, sort of like sacrilege.’
He handed her a glass of wine. ‘Okay, sweetie, time’s up. Talk to me.’
She looked at him for a long moment. ‘You have the most beautiful eyes,’ she said finally.
Now she was hedging. ‘So do you.’ He would not let her off the hook. His eyes locked on hers.
‘I love you very much.’ She sipped her wine.
‘I love you very much too. That’s not what I mean.’
She dropped her gaze.
He reached over and cupped her chin in his hand. ‘I want to marry you, darling,’ he said softly.
Her eyes refused to meet his. ‘I’m too old for you.’
‘Five years?’ He grinned. ‘I like older women.’
She smiled. At last, she looked directly at him again. ‘I won’t marry you, Alex. One day you’ll know why. Please, can we leave it at that?’
She had sadness in her eyes. He felt it strongly. It made him afraid. ‘Why, darling?’
She jumped up and went and stood near the water, her arms folded. ‘I have my reasons.’ She did not look around as she spoke. ‘They’re very good reasons and you will know about them soon. I promise.’
He rose and went to her, putting his arms around her. She leaned into him. ‘You do love me?’
‘Yes,’ she said softly. ‘Yes, Alex. I love you more than I thought possible.’
!Ka had taught him, ‘When you want to hunt the buck, you find a place to sit and let him come to you. That way, he will not know you are there. If you try to go to him you will lose him because your impatience will scare him away. It is better to wait a long time and have meat in your cooking pots than to wait a little time and have none.’
!Ka’s wisdom was seldom wrong. ‘Okay, Chrissy. I can wait.’
She turned and held him. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘You have no idea how much I love you for that.’
He kissed her and tasted the salt of tears.