‘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?’
