COUNTRY HOTEL
G W Y N N E SEATH
C O M P A C T and e r e c t in khaki bush-shirt and shorts, veld-shoed feet planted squarely on t h e sidewalk, legs neatly socked, fists on hips, dark sun-glasses u n d e r his w i d e - b r i m m e d hat, H a m m o n d w a t c h e d a length of b r o w n paper scuttle towards h i m across t h e village s t r e e t in t h e h o t w i n d . H e raised his head to look u p at t h e big letters that ran along the t o p of the hotel to spell o u t its n a m e — N e w K a r r o o . His eyes fell on a mass of heavily laden bougainvillia branches g r o w i n g above t h e d o o r of t h e n o n - E u r o p e a n bar, magenta p o i n t e d petals blazing in t h e sun.
Wonderful day on the farms and w i l d stretches w h e r e t h e r e w e r e n ' t any sticky streets o r bars and shops ; H a m m o n d imagined his forests, fresh and inviting in any w e a t h e r . He could see Hans a m o n g t h e C o l o u r e d m e n in t h e yard waiting for t h e bar t o o p e n . His assistant c a r r i e d his spare body u p r i g h t , w o r n dungarees pulled u p tight u n d e r t h e s h o r t coat, ribbon!ess felt hat hooding his head. T h e r e was s o m e t h i n g restful and serene a b o u t Hans' dark big-featured face w i t h its aquiline nose and high cheek b o n e s . And, H a m m o n d t h o u g h t , you c o u l d n ' t w a n t anyone b e t t e r for t h e w o r k .
H a m m o n d held his hat against t h e w i n d as he studied the m e n . In t h e h o t sun, in t h e eddying dust, they w a i t e d ; it seemed e n o r m o u s patience to h i m ! T h e y r e m i n d e d h i m of a dark cloud of bees, clustering and focussing r o u n d t h e h i v e — t h e i r s o u r c e of h o p e and s t r e n g t h . H a m m o n d was aware of a certain muteness about these masculine b u t unassertive m e n ; he sensed a kind of hush hovering over the patient g r o u p . H e found t h e i r colours and sizes as varied and diverse as t h e veld plants and trees that w e r e his c o n c e r n . He caught t h e eye of a little w e e d of a m a n in t h e t h r o n g — b r i m of felt hat wide over his lined face, grey trousers cascading over t h e t u r n e d - u p toes of his veld-shoes, his old jacket t o o big for h i m . A squat, yellow-faced m a n l u r c h e d close to H a m m o n d , already d r u n k , laugh wrinkles curving deeply from eyes into cheeks, he looked a r o u n d delightedly for s o m e o n e to share his t e m p o r a r y w o n d e r and f o r t u n e , m o v i n g his head happily to and fro.
Looking at t h e w a t c h on his thick w r i s t , H a m m o n d t u r n e d towards t h e h o t e l e n t r a n c e ; t h e r e was t i m e for a cup of tea w h i l e Hans visited t h e bar, and they could b e at t h e reserve
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by sunset. H e stepped over t h e c e m e n t stoep into t h e hall.
As he reached to hang his hat o n a h o o k by t h e d o o r , h e heard a voice, feminine b u t harsh and s t r i d e n t , say: " G o o d m o r n i n g , M r . H a m m o n d ! " A middle-aged w o m a n , t h i c k arms b a r e , blond hair b o b b e d and frizzed r o u n d h e r t h i n face, came t o - wards h i m , smiling; she s c r e w e d u p h e r little b l u e eyes and r u b b e d h e r cheek w i t h t h e back of a hand.
" A n d h o w is M r . H a m m o n d ? " She looked up at h i m , head tilted and m o u t h p u r s e d .
He angled off his glasses: " V e r y w e l l , M r s . B e s t e r . " His boyish face p e e r e d d o w n o n h e r .
" A n d h o w is M r . H a m m o n d ' s w o r k g o i n g ? " She shot h e r lace forward, eyebrows skipping u p .
" A l l right, t h a n k s . " H a m m o n d shifted a b o u t , stowing his spectacles in t h e i r case. " O n t h e way t o a n e w r e s e r v e — B o k k i e s v e l d . "
" W o u l d M r . H a m m o n d like s o m e t e a ? " M r s . Bester twisted h e r n e c k r o u n d t o w a r d h i m as h e strolled in t h e d i r e c t i o n of t h e lounge.
" Y e s , if you p l e a s e ! " H e t u r n e d to glance back at h e r ; she t r o t t e d away, h e r hands held d o w n l i m p before h e r , c o r s e t t e d body rigid as she w e n t .
H a m m o n d could m a k e o u t , lying in t h e d i m light u n d e r t h e stairway, piles of veld-flowers, scattered lush and fresh: great o p e n r i p e p r o teas, pink- and black-tipped and feathery, t h e i r long leaves and petals p o i n t i n g , enfolding; branches of wild mountain " g a r d e n i a , " their fleshy leaves, r o u n d e d and wax- like and shaded t h r o u g h greens and yellows to peach-pink and c r e a m , climbing to form spiralled leaf-blossoms. Mentally he n o t e d t h e i r scientific n a m e s .
N o o n e else was in t h e b r i g h t drinking-lounge w h e r e H a m m o n d arranged himself in o n e of t h e c h r o m i u m - p i p e d chairs at a squat table near t h e d o o r . H e could see t h r o u g h large steel w i n d o w s into t h e yard w h e r e visitors' cars stood in a r o w nosing t h e h o t e l - front, t h e G o v e r n m e n t station-wagon—packed w i t h H a m m o n d ' s e q u i p m e n t — a m o n g t h e m . T h e little r o o m was filled w i t h matching tables and chairs, fitted closely t o g e t h e r ; H a m m o n d s h u d d e r e d as h e felt its cold clean nakedness. W h e n h e consciously listened for it, h e could hear t h e h u m of t h e Coloured m e n ' s p r e s e n c e o n t h e o t h e r side of t h e y a r d ; it was like t h e doves calling—you h e a r d i t w h e n you w a n t e d t o !
A tall b l u e y - w h i t e cadaverous young m a n b r o u g h t t h e tea
quietly—vacant face dipping over the table, to disappear as silently as he had c o m e .
M r s . Bester came into t h e r o o m . She held a b u n c h of heath in h e r hand, its tiny-leaved sprays tufted w i t h tightly-packed crinkly h e l i o t r o p e flowers; cocking h e r head coyly and pursing h e r lips p r o p r i e t o r i a l l y , smug comfortable wrinkles w r e a t h e d her face. In his m i n d H a m m o n d automatically classified t h e heath.
" Y o u r flowers are very beautiful, M r s . B e s t e r . " H e t h o u g h t of t h e m g r o w i n g in t h e i r wild haunts, and n o w to be stripped calculatingly and arranged to d e c o r a t e t h e h o t e l ' s principal r o o m s .
Looking up at h e r , he p u t his fingers t h r o u g h his wavy b r o w n hair, hand lingering at t h e back of his n e c k : " D i d you get t h e m from t h e c o u n t r y r o u n d ? "
M r s . Bester stood e r e c t beside h i m : " E a r l y this m o r n i n g 1 was o u t . T h e flowers c o m e from t h e farms of f r i e n d s . "
W i t h n a r r o w e d eyes and tightened m o u t h , she thrust forward her l o w e r jaw and n o d d e d her head slowly, saying: " T o - d a y is such a busy day for us . . . M r . H a m m o n d w o u l d be surprized t o k n o w what a big trade w e do on a Saturday. . . . And my husband has gone to t o w n . . . I m u s t see to e v e r y t h i n g ! "
She strolled to t h e w i n d o w and p e e r e d at t h e s t r e e t .
H a m m o n d sipped his tea. H e n o t e d that t h e stir of the m e n waiting in t h e yard had shifted inside to the bar.
Presently M r s . Bester came towards h i m again, hugging t h e heath to h e r chest.
H a m m o n d said, his head set sideways, blue eyes t w i n k l i n g , b r o w s raised questioningly: " I s t h e r e a limit to t h e a m o u n t of alcohol you can sell to t h e C o l o u r e d p e o p l e ? "
As she instinctively b l u r t e d " O h , n o ! " , H a m m o n d was aware that she felt u n c e r t a i n ; h e r head moved from side to side, searching, r e l u c t a n t .
He fixed h e r w i t h clear blue eyes, lips pressed t o g e t h e r h a r d :
" C a n ' t you refuse to serve t h e m if you feel t h e y ' v e had t o o m u c h to d r i n k ? "
As Mrs. Bester hesitated to answer h i m , h e r face pleading, placating, he p u r s u e d h e r : " D o n ' t you ever have any t r o u b l e arising from d r u n k e n n e s s ? "
M r s . Bester b e n t l o w , p r o p p i n g her fists on t h e table, to face him squarely. T h e heath j u t t e d upwards from o n e hand and trailed over t h e table as she fixed amused eyes on him and said,
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emphasizing each w o r d w i t h a little j e r k of the h e a d : " T h a t ' s t h e p o l i c e ' s c o n c e r n — n o t o u r s . "
Silence welled up b e t w e e n t h e m .
Mrs. Bester swayed h e r body a r o u n d from the little table towards the d o o r .
W i t h eyebrows lifted and t r o u b l e d lines d e e p across his b r o w , H a m m o n d g r u n t e d and looked d o w n in his lap.
T h e pale bar-attendant stole into t h e r o o m , his e m p t y face lit at last by interest. H e spoke breathy Afrikaans phrases in a low t o n e to Mrs. Bester. T h e hotel p r o p r i e t r e s s stood listening, eyes slit, m o u t h rigid, body tense. W n e n t h e bar- man finished she made a spurt t h r o u g h the d o o r to d r o p t h e heath o n t o the o t h e r flowers in t h e hall and vanish—as if h u r l e d — towards the bar. H a m m o n d could hear her loud decisive steps.
H e t h o u g h t t h e l o w d r o n e from t h e bar seemed to m o u n t to an uneven roar.
T h e r e w e r e steps again in the hall, and the sudden w h i r r i n g sound of a t e l e p h o n e crank. After a pause, M r s . Bester's v o i c e — t h e Afrikaans syllables concise and rasping—came harsh, d e m a n d i n g , e m p h a t i c , high t h r o u g h t h e air, and t h e sound of t h e receiver slamming on its h o o k . T h e n h e r steps struck t h e floor again.
T h e teapot e m p t y , H a m m o n d rose. H e strode t h r o u g h t h e hall and o u t t h e e n t r a n c e , hands clasped behind h i m , to stand at t h e edge of t h e c e m e n t s t o e p . A g r o u p of C o l o u r e d w o m e n , dark and h u m b l e , their wisps of children following t h e m lightly, passed along t h e s t r e e t in front of t h e little houses and gated yards opposite. H a m m o n d was conscious of a lull in t h e bar.
A slight C o l o u r e d boy came d o w n the street, dressed in t h e fresh khaki uniform and h e l m e t of a policeman. H a m m o n d n o t i c e d h o w t h e polished leather of his b e l t sparkled in the sun, shining handcuffs s t r e t c h e d and linked along its surface. T h e skin of t h e b o y ' s face was b r o n z e and satin-smooth, and, clothed in his uniform, he walked w i t h a sure d i r e c t step towards t h e d o o r of t h e n o n - E u r o p e a n bar and e n t e r e d it. Listening, H a m m o n d n o t i c e d t h e sound inside d r o p , and after a pause, r e s u m e its usual h u m . T h e mild young policeman came o u t of t h e bar, hands c l u t c h i n g his p r i s o n e r . H a m m o n d recognized t h e happy d r u n k e n man of an earlier h o u r , yellow face n o w sagging and exhausted, t o t t e r i n g crazily from side to side—head lolling jerkily. T h e uniformed boy made his way carefully, guiding and leading his charge across the yard to t h e sidewalk and finally