Eagle in the Sky - Smith Wilbur - Страница 56

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had made her his life's work.

Quickly he learned that it was useless staring at her or wagging his

tail, to attract her attention he must whine or pant.  In other respects

she was also slightly feeble-minded, the only way to prevent her doing

stupid things like falling down the front steps or tripping over a

bucket left in the passage by a careless servant was to bump her with

his shoulder, or with his nose.

She had fallen readily into a pattern of work that kept her in her

workroom until noon each day, with Zulu curled at her feet.

David set up a large bird bath under the trees outside her window, so

the tapes she made had as a background the chatter and warble of half a

dozen varieties of wild birds.  She had discovered a typist in Nelspruit

who could speak Hebrew, and David took the tapes in to her whenever he

flew to town for supplies and to collect the mail, and he brought each

batch of typing back with him for checking.

They worked together on this task, David reading each batch of writing

or correspondence aloud to her and making the alterations she asked for.

He made it a habit of reading almost everything, from newspapers to

novels, aloud.

Who needs braille with you around, Debra remarked, but it was more than

just the written word she needed to hear from him.  It was each facet

and dimension of her new surroundings.  She had never seen any of the

myriad of birds that flocked to drink and bathe below her window, though

she soon recognized each individual call and would pick out a stranger

immediately.

David, there's a new one, what it is?  What does he look like?  And he

must describe not only its plumage, but its mannerisms and its habits.

At other times he must describe to her exactly how the new buildings

fitted into their surroundings, the antics of Zulu the labrador, and

supply accurate descriptions of the servants, the view from the window

of her workroom, and a hundred other aspects of her new life.

In time the building was completed and the strangers left Jabulani, but

it was not until the crates from Israel containing their furniture and

other Possessions from Malik Street arrived that Jabulani started truly

to become their home.

The olive-wood table was placed under the window in the workroom.

I haven't been able to work properly, there was something missing - and

Debra ran her fingers caressingly across the inlaid ivory and ebony top

- until now Her books were in shelves on the wall beside the table, and

the leather suite in the new lounge looked very well with the

animal-skin rugs and woven wool carpets.

David hung the Ella Kadesh painting above the fireplace, Debra

determining the precise position for him by sense of touch.

Are you sure it shouldn't be a sixteenth of an inch higher?  David asked

seriously.

Let's have no more lip from you, Morgan, I have to know exactly where it

is.  Then the great brass bedstead was set up in the bedroom, and

covered with the ivory-coloured bedspread.

Debra bounced up and down on it happily.

Now, there is only one thing more that is missing she declared.

"What's that?  he asked with mock anxiety.  Is it something important?

Come here.  She crooked a finger in his general direction.  And I'll

show you just how important it is.

During the months of preparation they had not left The immediate

neighbourhood of the homestead, but now quite suddenly the rush and

bustle was over.

We have eighteen thousand acres and plenty of fourfooted neighbours,

let's go check it all out, David suggested.

They packed a cold lunch and the three of them climbed into the new

Land-Rover with Zulu relegated to the back seat.  The road led naturally

down to the String of Pearls for this was the focal point of all life

upon the estate.

They left the Land-Rover amongst the fever trees and went down to the

ruins of the thatched summer house on the bank of the main pool.

The water aroused all Zulu's instincts and he plunged into it, paddling

out into the centre with obvious enjoyment.  The water was clear as air,

but shaded to black in the depths.

David scratched in the muddy bank and turned out a thick pink earthworm.

He threw it into the shallows and a dark shape half as long as his arm

rushed silently out of the depths and swirled the surface.

Wow!  David laughed.  There are still a few fat ones around.  We will

have to bring down the rods.  I used to spend days down here when I was

a kid.  The forest was filled with memories and as they wandered along

the edge of the reed banks he reminisced about his childhood, until

gradually he fell into silence, and she asked: Is something wrong,

David?  'She had grown that sensitive to his moods.

There are no animals.  His tone was puzzled.  Birds, yes.  But we

haven't seen a single animal, not even a duiker, since we left the

homestead.  He stopped at a place that was clear of reeds, where the

bank shelved gently.  This used to be a favourite drinking place.  It

was busy day and night, the herds virtually lining up for a chance to

drink.  He left Debra and went down to the edge, stooping to examine the

ground carefully.  No spoor even, just a few Kudu and a small troop of

baboon.

There has not been a herd here for months, or possibly years.  When he

came back to her she asked gently, You are upset?  Jabulani without

its animals is nothing, 'he muttered.  Come on, let's go and see the

rest of it.  There is something very odd here.

The leisurely outing became a desperate hunt, as David scoured the

thickets and the open glades, followed the dried water courses and

stopped the Land Rover to examine the sand beds for signs of life.

Not even an impala, he was worried and anxious.  There used to be

thousands of them.  I remember herds of them, silky brown and graceful

as ballet dancers, under nearly every tree.  He turned the Land-Rover

northwards, following an overgrown track through the trees.

There is grazing here that hasn't been touched.  It's lush as a

cultivated garden.  A little before noon they reached the dusty,

corrugated public road that ran along the north boundary of Jabulani.

The fence that followed the edge of the road was ruinous, with sagging

and broken wire and many of the uprights snapped off at ground level.

Hell, it's a mess, David told her, as he turned through a gap in the

wire on to the road, and followed the boundary for two miles until they

reached the turnoff to the Jabulani homestead.

Even the signboard hanging above the stone pillars of the gateway, which

David's father had fashioned in bronze and of which he had been so

proud, was now dilapidated and-hung askew.

Well, there's plenty of work to keep us going, said David with a certain

relish.

Half a mile beyond the gates the road turned sharply, hedged on each

side by tall grass, and standing full in the sandy track was a

magnificent kudu bull, ghostly grey and striped with pale chalky lines

across the deep powerful body.  His head was held high, armed with the

long corkscrew black horns, and his huge ears were spread in an intent

listening attitude.

For only part of a second he posed like that, then, although the

Land-Rover was still two hundred yards off, he exploded into a smoky

blur of frantic flight.  His great horns laid along his back as he fled

through the open bush in a series of long, lithe bounds, disappearing so

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