‘My God, that child doesn’t stop crying,’ David said angrily. ‘People can’t hear themselves think. Keep her quiet, can’t you?’

Elsie looked at her son-in-law. David had had a headstart drinking witblits with Jan in the barn, and was unceasing in his bullying. The flour on Soela’s face hadn’t camouflaged the yellow and green bruises under her eyes.

‘Give her here,’ Joubert said. ‘Let’s see what’s ailing my grandchild. Come to Oupa.’

Soela handed Bessie to him.

‘Not over the food,’ David bellowed.

‘I’ll give her to you after we’ve eaten,’ Soela brought the infant back to her own lap.

Elsie looked at David. ‘Perhaps you should have something to eat to calm your nerves.’

‘I would, but it looks like we’re waiting for someone.’

‘We are. Lourens.’

‘The knecht is eating with us?’

‘Yes.’

‘Aah,’ David grinned, turning to Diena next to him. ‘Lourens is the special guest. Pa, would you have a knecht at your table at Christmas time?’

‘Stop it,’ Willem Kloot said. It had been an unpleasant journey travelling to the Jouberts, with Soela bruised and wounded and not saying a word, and David saying too much. He felt trapped between his son’s obnoxiousness and his daughter-in-law’s suffering.

‘Am I misbehaving, then?’

‘You’ve had too much to drink.’

‘It’s your other son, Pa. He’s the one who can’t hold his liquor. Remember him? What he did?’

The room went quiet.

‘My word, it seems I’ve said the wrong thing again.’

‘I would stop now if I were you,’ Willem Kloot warned.

Drieka recognised the tone in her husband’s voice. The day would end in chaos if David persisted in his bullying behaviour.

There was a knock at the door.

‘Come in, come in,’ Joubert said, grateful to turn the conversation. ‘You know everyone, Lourens. Sit down. Take a seat there, between Diena and Soela. We were waiting for you.’

Lourens took off his hat. His long hair, dark and straight, fell in his face.

‘I was just finishing off. When I looked again, the sun was behind the kopje. I’ve barely had time to make myself presentable.’

‘You look fine,’ Elsie said, noting the drops still on the beard where he must have hurriedly dipped his head in the barrel. She looked across the table at her daughters. Diena’s cheeks were flushed, even Soela had brightened slightly. She could see the attraction of young Lourens. He was a bachelor. There were no bachelors around, except for Pietie Retief’s half-witted grandson, Hennie. Lourens also took an interest in women’s things, having recently enquired about a quilt he’d seen Diena tack and embroider. He was keen to have one like it for his mother. And a man who had thought for his mother … that was the best measure of his character. Diena said he would be coming soon to speak to Jan.

‘Well, now that we’re all here—you comfortable there, Lourens?’ David asked.

Lourens, unaware of the trouble between the Kloots, was talking to Diena, and only caught the end of the question.

‘Sorry?’

‘I said, are you comfortable there? Next to my wife.’

Lourens looked at the other faces.

‘Yes.’

‘Good. What part of the pig do you want?’ He had the knife poised over the roasted haunch.

‘Just carve it,’ Willem said curtly.

Bessie, startled by the angry note in her grandfather’s voice, started crying all over again.

‘I’ll take her, Soela. You eat,’ Elsie said. ‘You look tired.’

‘We will not inconvenience anyone during supper,’ David said. ‘It’s Soela’s child. She’ll look after her.’

‘You take her, then,’ Soela blurted. ‘Do something instead of just issuing orders.’

Everyone looked down at their plates. They had never heard Soela answer her husband like this before.

David’s eyes narrowed. ‘You have spirit,’ he smiled. ‘Why don’t you try that when we’re alone?’

‘That’s enough,’ Willem said. ‘I’ll not listen to any more. What’s the matter with you?’

‘Nothing, Pa—is there?’

Elsie took Bessie from Soela and sat down. She felt bad for Willem. His son had embarrassed him, she knew at what cost. David was unpleasant and was harassing his wife and being rude to the knecht on purpose. Asking him what part of the pig he wanted. Who did he think he was? He was a pig himself. David felt her stare and looked up. The poisonous look she gave him left no doubt that whatever tenuous link had been established between them was gone.

The meal was a sombre affair, with long faces and awkward talk, not the celebration the Jouberts had had in mind when they invited the Kloots and slaughtered a pig they had specially bought and fattened for the occasion. It wasn’t only Christmas they were celebrating, but also the changes Joubert had made to his house, building on an extra room, and fitting doors made with wood he’d brought back all the way from Stellenbosch.

‘Well, that’s that,’ Jan Joubert said when it was over, raising himself from the bench. ‘We’ll take our brandy on the stoep, a man can suffocate in this heat.’

The women were only too glad to be rid of them and huddled around clearing dishes, making coffee, each one waiting for the other to speak. Soela went inside to put Bessie to sleep and Drieka opened the subject.

‘You saw what happened. That was nothing compared with what he does to her at home. It’s getting really bad.’

‘How did she get those bruises on her face?’ Elsie asked.

‘It was about the servant, Katrijn, the one who had the baby. Soela went to see her. She had seen David with Katrijn some weeks before, and accused him of being the father. He hit her in front of the servant and dragged her out by her hair. By the time Willem got there, it was all over, and she was unconscious.’

‘I’ve never hated anyone,’ Elsie said. ‘It’s wrong to hate, the Lord forbids it. But he’s raised ugly feelings in me—I can’t even bear to look at him. I don’t know why I never saw this in him before.’

‘You saw it, Ma,’ Diena said. ‘You didn’t want her to go back, remember? You thought he would change. We all hoped for the best for Soela, though we never spoke about it.’