‘She’s ready.’
He followed her into the kitchen. His first impression of Soela was from the side, a still figure sitting in a chair, looking out the window. Diena must have just changed her dress for she looked hurriedly prepared, her hair still bristling from the way the brush had gone through it, one sleeve not fully pulled down over her arm. But, even without looking into her face, the silence pained him.
‘Soela, look who’s here. It’s Roff.’
Roeloff came to stand in front of her. Her illness had made her look younger, almost angelic, and she looked at him without moving her eyes.
‘Hello, Soela.’
She looked at him for a moment, then returned her gaze to the window. There was no life or laughter in her. A feeling of despair rose in him. This wasn’t the flirtatious girl he’d known and offended. As he watched, a tear rolled from her eye and sat between her nose and cheek.
‘Don’t take it hard, Roff. She’s not aware.’
‘Can I be with her alone for a moment?’
‘Yes.’
Roeloff knelt down in front of Soela.
‘I don’t know if you understand me, Soela, but you recognised me. It’s Roeloff. I’m sorry for what I’ve done. I was young and stupid.’
Soela sat unmoving as before, staring at something only she could see on the distant horizon.
He took her hand and squeezed it.
‘Bessie needs you. Get better for her.’
Her lashes flickered, and presently, the tear rolled down her face and dropped into her lap.
He left her and returned to the stoep to wait for Joubert.
Diena came out with coffee.
‘Did you speak to Soela?’
‘I did.’
‘You look well, Roff. Your time away did you good. I didn’t have time to talk to you much at the house. I’m sorry about your father.’
He looked at her. The short hair, the colour in her cheeks—Diena had blossomed. She no longer had that pinched, reserved look and was much more forthcoming.
‘Thank you. You’ve done well, too, Diena. A husband, a baby coming. Lourens seems a nice man, pleasant. Are you happy?’
‘Yes. I was fortunate to meet someone like him.’
Bessie came to the front door and watched them.
‘Don’t stand there like a little lost lamb, Bessie. Do you want some of this coffee?’ Diena asked.
Bessie turned and went back into the house.
‘Who does she look like, do you think?’ Roeloff asked suddenly.
Diena looked up from the coffee she was pouring.
‘Soela, of course. Everything about them’s the same.’
Roeloff took a sip on his coffee, and put the mug down.
‘Her eyes are not the eyes of her mother and father.’
Diena looked at him, hard. The ease with which she’d spoken earlier was replaced by a hint of concern.
‘You’re scaring me, Roff,’ she laughed nervously. ‘Of course they’re not the eyes of her mother and father. They could be like her grandfather’s, Oom Willem, or her great-grandfather, Oupa Harman. There are blue eyes on your side of the family.’
‘I didn’t mean their colour.’
‘What did you mean?’
Roeloff looked at her.
‘You know what I mean. You know whose child she is.’
Diena’s lashes flickered. She didn’t say anything.
‘I am told there’s a Slams in Roodezand. He doesn’t treat broken bones or snakebites, but has another speciality. He might know how to cure Bessie’s sadness.’ He paused a suitable time. ‘It might also help if Bessie played with other children, Harman and Beatrix. It will be good for them to grow up knowing each other.’
The evenness in her breathing returned.
‘They must know each other, yes.’
‘She must come often to Kloot’s Nek.’
‘She will.’
‘I could send for her every five or six days.’
Diena paused with the mug at her lips.
‘I’m sure it’ll be all right.’
‘I don’t mean to disrupt the two families. That’s not what I want.’
Diena looked at him. He looked back at her. There was nothing more he had to say. She understood; he would leave things as they were. Diena would be the go-between for him to see his child.
Joubert and his wife arrived as they finished their coffee. Roeloff accompanied the farmer to the kraal where all the Kloot sheep had been collected.
‘I count three hundred and sixty without the merino,’ Roeloff said after a considerable time. ‘We’re short by about a hundred.’
