He squeezes me so tightly round the waist that I gasp and then he tickles me so I try to wriggle away shrieking, but he has my wrist in a soft clutch.
“Come here. I’ve missed you so much. That sounds crazy, but it feels like we’ve both been away on different holidays for a month. I know we’ve seen each other, talked to each other, but not been, like, out.”
“Well this hardly constitutes as a date! Here, if you don’t let me go I can’t go catch Induna, can I? I’ll show you how to tack him up then we’ll get you on board.”
Truth is, I reckon he’s as desperate to please me as I’m desperate to please him. We never got much chance during the exams to well and truly make up for me standing him up for his family get together, so today’s the day. We’ll be okay together again. He wants me to give him another riding lesson. It’s all good.
The last few weeks have been lost in a continuous cycle of writing each paper and swotting for the next. Crossing through the rows on my exam timetable with a thick black marker. Avoiding the post mortems.
“What did you get for Part (ii) of Number 4?”
“That angle? It was sixty degrees. Why? What did you get?”
“Sixty? No, I got forty-five.”
“Yes, she’s right. So did I.”
“Forty-five? How?”
Whenever I’ve had the chance I’ve been disappearing off on either Induna or Encore for up to four hours at a time, soaking up the solitude of the bush, the solitude soaking up my stress. But it’s over. I’ve crossed a line I never knew existed until now. School is finished.
It’s all good.
It’s baking hot, and still. Not the merest breath of a breeze anywhere. The flies are a damned nuisance and Induna virtually mugs me and tries to shove his nose into the headcollar before I’ve had a chance to sort it out. He’s lost his fly fringe again and I can’t be bothered to search for it. Maybe we can scour the paddock later when it’s cooled down a bit.
There’s what looks like a vague haze of dust hanging in the air above the stable block. I leave Danny to carry the tack to the stable and peek round the corner. It is dust, and there’s the reason – Nathan and Bravo. Okay, this is good. If Danny wants to learn to ride, he needs to watch this pair a bit. I’ll go tell him.
“Ménage is occupied right now. Here, look, we’ll leave Induna in the stable for a bit. Leave the saddle on its pommel on top of the numnah outside the door and hang the bridle there. That’s it. We can go and watch until he’s finished.”
“Who?”
“Nathan. He’s riding Bravo.”
“Oh.”
As we make our way along the paved path to the gate, I nearly take Danny by the hand, but then don’t. He’s not looking at me so he hasn’t seen me reach out and withdraw. I should want to hold his hand, so why I stopped myself I can’t quite figure.
“Here we are,” I say. Unnecessarily. “Watch and learn, my boy. Here’s how to ride a horse properly.”
“Hey? But you’re a brilliant rider, my sweet.”
He’s studying the horse and rider. He says, “Oh him. He’s back in the army then?”
Nathan’s seen us. He brings his horse back into walk, more by telepathic means than by any visible aids, turns up the centre line and halts at X.
“Hi,” he calls, kicking his feet out of the stirrups. He’s wearing camouflage trousers and his army boots.
“Finished and celebrating? Gill said you had your last paper yesterday.”
“Yes! Biology, done. All done! We’re both free coz Danny’s finished his A Levels as well. Yippee!” I punch the air with both hands and nearly clout Danny in the mouth. This time I do grab him, pull him close and whisper “Sorry!” in his ear. He gives me a kiss on my cheek.
“If you knock me out I won’t be able to ride your horse Babe,” he whispers back and tickles me in the waist again. This time I wriggle downwards out of reach so he’s bending over me.
He lifts me back up by placing his hands under my arms, then his attention shifts away to over the top of my head.
“I think someone wants to speak to you.”
Nathan’s dismounted and is right by the gate. He glances from Danny to me and back again then unlatches it and swings it into the ménage without having to move, so he and Bravo are standing in the gap. He offers me Bravo’s reins.
“There you are.” He’s staring at the sandy track under my boots. “I’d like to see you ride him. Would you do that? So I can watch him from the ground?”
Unbelievable. How many times have I dreamed of an offer to ride this horse from either Gill or Nathan? And so now that it’s finally been bestowed upon me I’m wishing it hadn’t because I’m scared of being totally inept, hashing it all up and making a fool of myself. He looks up to see why I’m dithering and with an air of puzzled amusement proffers the reins again encouragingly. Then he glances down as I uncurl my right hand from around Danny’s left to take them from him and the smile that was developing becomes fixed at a point just before reaching its full potential.
“Hello Danny,” he says.
“Hi.” Danny adjusts his dark glasses.
Nathan widens the gap for me as I pass through and step up to Bravo’s head. While I’m scratching the horse on the neck and backing him up away from the gate post, he says to Danny, “You coming in?” then, “No?” and the gate clacks shut behind me.
So with one guy who thinks I’m an amazing rider and one who is an amazing rider watching me and my heart fluttering in my chest, I shorten the stirrup leathers, climb onto the lowest fence rail and, mercifully, execute a graceful mount. Bravo, for his part, stands like a statue. Only when I’m on board do I realise Nathan’s holding his bridle.
“I was going to give you a leg up but you beat me to it.”
He steps away and tells me, “Walk him round then, Tessa. Take up a contact straight away because he’s already worked in. When you feel happy, do a bit more. Trot some circles or something.”
Bravo is instantly and acutely aware of the fact that he has a new rider. He lifts his back under the saddle and dances his hind legs as if threatening to buck.
“Don’t throw the reins at him. Leg on, sit deep and move with him. Don’t stick your legs forward like that. Relax. Don’t forget you’ve got sixteen hands of muscle under you that’s likely to develop an attitude problem. You have to ask him nicely to work with you.”
I flash a grin at Danny, who waves one hand then folds his arms to watch.
This is so cool. Bravo’s trot actually seems to hover in the air fractionally between each stride. I circle him a few times on each rein like Nathan said, trying to get used to the feeling, then ask for a bit of shoulder-in. He’s flexible and willing on the left rein, but kicks out at my inside leg pressure on the right rein.
“Aha! He doesn’t want to step under with that hind leg does he? I’ve been working on that but he thinks he can get away with it with you. Try it again.”
“You should smack him when he plays up like that,” Danny suggests as I trot past the gate. “He looks as if he wants to buck you off.”
I’ve never seen Nathan even carry a whip, let alone use one.
Nathan uses his emotionless voice. “Oh, we don’t do it like that. We want him to do these movements willingly, not because he thinks he’s going to get punished if he doesn’t.”
The dust had begun to settle but now I’ve stirred it up again. It’s like talcum powder and it’s hanging in the humid air like a smog. I ride for fifteen minutes and I want to stay on this lovely animal for ever, but Bravo’s fine, dark chocolate coat is becoming lathered and I’m starting to flag. I can’t keep Danny waiting like this. I must get him up on Induna soon or he’ll completely lose interest.
I leap off at the gate, wipe the perspiration from my upper lip and lift my arms in an attempt to let air circulate under them.
“Horses may sweat and gentlemen may perspire, to quote that old saying, but this lady sure doesn’t glow. I sweat with the best of ’em!”
It’s Nathan who laughs; Danny doesn’t react at all. God, that was such an unladylike thing to say. Am I destined to always be dusty and sweaty and horsey? I unbuckle my chin strap and pull the hard hat off, running my fingers through the lank, wet hair of my fringe. I’ve no doubt I look like I’ve been dragged through a hedge, and maybe part of a lake, backwards.
“Horrible things, these skid-lids.”
“Better a ruined hair-do than a cracked skull, my sweet.”
Ruined hair-do. So it really does look that bad.
I turn to Nathan.
“Thank you. He’s stunning. So light and… I don’t know. I can’t find the words. I had the feeling up there a couple of times that he would have simply done whatever I’d asked at a mere touch. Yes, stunning.”
He inclines his head. “You must ride him again for me. I like to watch him from the ground because it gives me a different perspective. Just say when.”
Through my haze of euphoria and incredulity I catch sight of Danny’s face. He’s bored out of his mind and it’s my fault.
“Let’s get Induna ready. We’ll only do a short session because it’s so hot and we’re going out tonight. Do you still want to ride him?”
“Yes. Okay, let’s.” It’s a commendable attempt at enthusiasm and he takes my hand to show he means it.
With the intention of taking my leave of Nathan, I look back over my shoulder, but he’s leading his horse around the track. When I do say, “’Bye,” he doesn’t turn.
*
Mum’s taken Rosie to a tennis lesson and I’ve no idea where Dad is. I wander aimlessly about the house, unable to settle down to read my library book or to listen to the radio or to my records. The mere idea of making a pot of tea is taxing to the point that I just pour myself a glass of cold water from the jug in the fridge. I don’t like plain water very much.
There’s some half-hearted thunder and a bit of rain and when Mum and Rosie get back I’m sitting on the storm drain culvert headwall outside the gate, scratching the top of Skellum’s head and staring into space. The rainwater’s gurgling away beneath me, flattening the tangled bright green grass that lines the sides of the ditch. The wet macadam road surface is steaming in the sun.
“What are you doing out here?” Mum asks through the driver’s side window.
“Just thinking. It’s weird that it’s all over and I don’t have to go back to school. Except to get the results. It’s only really hit me now.”
“You wouldn’t reconsider going back to do M and A Levels?”
She’s asked me this before. I stop my absent minded scratching and Skellie turns his reproachful brown eyes onto me while tentatively waving his feathery tail in the damp grass.
“Sorry.” I place a hand on each of his ears and pull at them gently. He grunts and closes his eyes.
“No. I’ve already accepted the job with Charles and I don’t think A Levels would be much good to me personally. I’m not clever enough. Rosie should do A Levels, but not me.”
She irritates me a lot these days but I’m pleased she’s come home. I’m pleased both of them are home. I need the company. I stand up and follow the car through the gate, the dog at my heels.
Climbing out of the car, she says, “Would you like to go out for a meal tonight to celebrate? You choose where. Dad won’t mind. He’s at the office finishing some design thing, but I’ll phone him.”
“Oh no thanks, Mum.” I clap my hands at Skellum, who races dizzily round his own tail twice before bolting off across the lawn in search of his well-chewed tennis ball. “Jess and Gordon are taking us to the Mabelreign Drive-In tonight. We’ve all finished exams now.”
Jess is the only one going back to school, to do Matriculation Level in chemistry, biology and maths. Then in 1981 she’ll be gone, to university in South Africa. She dropped this bombshell on me on Friday. I’ve always known she would go to university, but her revelation that she’s chosen to apply to the University of Cape Town was a slap in the face. She’s been quietly morphing into an emigrator behind my back.
*
Danny collects me at five-thirty and drives us to Gordon’s house. I’m still in a daze and he glances at me several times out of the corner of his left eye. We barely say a word to each other on the journey.
“Gordon’s folks have gone to Bulawayo for the weekend and his sister’s staying with friends,” he tells me as we walk from the car to the house. “I think Gordie intends to make this the mother of all parties so he’s been out shopping.”
“Oh good, I’m quite hungry.”
There’s a long row of bottles on the worktop. Red wine, white wine, gin, vodka, mixers. And two crates of Castle on the floor. No food, of course. You idiot, Tessa. You should be crowned Little Miss Naïve 1979.
A number of them are empty by the time we leave for the drive-in.
*
It’s midnight, unless that clock I can see in the lounge is wrong. I squint at Danny’s watch as I whirl under his arm. Well okay, it is midnight. We’ve been back an hour already. The edges of everything are a bit blurred, but that’s not a surprise.
It’s a wonder we got back at all. I’m sure I would’ve been a lot more bothered about Gordon’s ability to drive if I hadn’t had those G&Ts before we left. Dear Charles has never been stingy with his rum portions, but after a few too many Castles Gordon’s judgement of alcohol measurements wasn’t up to much. The first one was vile but the next two did gradually taste much better.
“What’s so funny my sweet?” Danny rocks me from side to side and we both nearly fall over. He’s remarkably sober, so he keeps me on my feet. He wants to stay in Dad’s good books and he won’t if he puts the car into a ditch on the way home with me in it.
“Just remembering… Funny… Gordon gripping the wheel with both hands and saying ‘Ah, now there’s a red light. I’d better stop.’ I really thought he was gonna rear-end that car. He was being so… sober! And then he stalls it. And then we all ran round the car once before the lights changed. Why did we even do that? Who dreamed that one up?”
He chuckles. “Jesus! He wasn’t at all sober and you’re not now. Here now. Calm down and hold me close. We can dance. There…”
The telephone jangles from the depths of the hallway and we freeze in position and stare at each other. Jess is nearest to the hi-fi. She steps into the lounge, lifts the stylus and the music dies abruptly. My ears continue to throb.
“What the hell?” Gordon lurches indoors. Jess totters back out, drapes herself over the patio handrail and clings to a brick column for support.
“I bet it’s his folks,” she manages to say between sniggers. “They’ve decided to come back and are phoning from the petrol station at the end of the road.”
This doesn’t make any sense and she knows it. She gives a huge snort and collapses into a sitting position on the slabs with a sigh.
“I don’t feel well.”
Two minutes later Gordon reappears.
“Neighbours. Complaining. They’re okay – not bad for old folks. Henry and Dad are pretty good friends. I told him we’d finished our exams. He said we should enjoy ourselves, but do it more quietly.”
His face works its way from indifference through to indignation. “I say we turn the volume up some more. Ja?”
Danny leads me over to him, grabs his arm, turns him around and directs him back into the hall.
“Nah. They’re not worth worrying about. We’ll go indoors now. Come along, girls.”
“You should have invited them over,” Jess says, making a clumsy effort to get up, then pausing on her knees. “The more, the merrier, as they say.”
Danny decides I’m capable of standing on my own, puts his hands under her armpits and lifts her to her feet.
We leave the French doors open to capture the few cool breaths in the dark, still air. Conversation ebbs and flows. This and that, a bit of school gossip. There’s a pleasant drowsiness and then a companionable lull. The room recedes. Gordon’s voice invades suddenly, loudly, with renewed energy, making me twitch and wonder where the hell I am for a split second.
“So, are we all set for majority rule next year? Revert to being a bloody British colony and then have the elections like everyone’s pretending the last fifteen years have never happened? Ridiculous.”
Is it normal for drunkenness to drain away in an instant? The blue and green swirls on the carpet come into crystal clear focus along with my thought processes. If the exams were good for anything, it was forcing me to forget the political mire that surrounds us and sucks us in, encompassing every day of our lives. Now in two sentences it’s all back. Thanks, Gordon.
It’s time to go. I straighten up against Danny and open my mouth to speak, but Jess beats me to it. She’s not speaking so much as mumbling.
“There might be violence you know. Remember the Mau Mau? Well, we don’t remember it of course – too young, wrong country…”
She sighs and starts probing her fingers into a crisp packet she just picked up off the sofa for any remaining shards.
I jump into the gap. “Perhaps it’s time we should…”
Too late. Danny’s sensed an interesting debate.
“I’ve already said to Tess that I’m thinking of starting out Down South when I’ve got my degree. It will be a better life down there. I don’t care to be ruled by a bunch of gooks, thanks. I don’t agree, Jess. I don’t think we’ll get that sort of violence. What we will get is plenty of propaganda about how terrible the white settlers were. All sorts of lies. Don’t you think, Tess? You’re being quiet.”
I should carry on pretending to be drunk at this point. But some annoying urge in me won’t let this one go. You’re forgetting that we’ve been fed propaganda all our school lives, I tell him. History books are always toned to suit those in power. We get told how the Empire was great, but nothing from the side of the indigenous people of the countries the Empire absorbed. We get told the Allied Powers in World War Two were right and good but get told nothing from the German side. Our books hail Cecil Rhodes as a hero, Jameson too, but now we’re finding out neither of them were heroes to many in this country or South Africa. We believe what we’ve been told because we’re taught to do so and no-one tells us there are other viewpoints.
“Steady on, Tess.”
Jess crumples the packet in her hands and tosses it towards a small basket-weave waste paper bin in the corner. Opening itself up in mid-air, it misses its target and lands amongst a few others on the carpet.
“Damn!” she says and closes her eyes.
“You’re a right, rolling Leftie, aren’t you?” says Gordon, eyeing me as if I’ve been brought in by the cat.
Well, question something we’ve been taught to believe and dare to suggest that ‘the other side’ may have a point, and get immediately branded a Leftie?
Danny only looks disappointed. “You don’t think they’d be right to rewrite history to suit themselves, do you?”
Yeah, should’ve kept the mouth shut. Don’t care what Gordon thinks, but Danny…? Do I? Actually, not really.
“It’s what they will do, Danny. I’m stating fact. Yes, it will happen and that’s why. Shall we go? Please?”
“Come along then, Sweets. We’d better go, Gordon.”
“Mmm.” He’s caressing Jess and looks a bit flushed.
I totter over to where I left my bag. “What about Jess? Can we give her a lift?”
But she’s asleep now and, weary beyond words, I let Danny lead me away and out into the balmy night.