Clare Houston - An Unquiet Place

‘All right, then,’ said Joseph, his brows raised, ‘shall we go see the site?’

The Hilux bounced as they climbed the hill behind the house. Alistair’s dogs ran with the pickup, Grant keeping up with the vehicle and the two Labs managing to lumber behind. Hannah sat in the middle, remembering her first ride in the truck with Alistair, painfully holding herself away from him. Now, she relaxed and let the rolling of the vehicle slide her between her brother and Alistair. At one point, he changed into lowest gear and his hand shifted to her leg to hold her in place as the truck ground over a particularly steep, rocky section of road. Her insides clenched at the feel of his hard hand on her skin, but it was gone too soon, both hands gripping the steering wheel and Alistair looking straight ahead as if nothing had happened.

There was no doubt, she was attracted to him. The few times they had touched, by accident or that moment on the pavement outside her house, her reaction had been visceral. A physical tug which sat deep but made no sense to pursue. Too much emotional baggage on both sides to wade through. She hadn’t allowed herself to think about it. And shouldn’t now.

Todd had set the pace of their relationship from their very first meeting. He had been handsome in a smooth, trendy sort of way, and his charisma had pulled her into following him. She had never questioned why she had enmeshed herself in his life or exactly what it was that she liked about him. They were a couple from the moment they met. She had fitted herself around him, never asking herself if it was what she wanted. She went with the flow, drifting along rather than purposely choosing him.

Now there was Alistair. And a slow pull towards a man who stood damaged but stood nonetheless. A man for whom opening his heart before her took great courage. But was she up to the responsibility? Was she ready for the intensity she was sure would come with getting involved with Alistair? Her heart skittered and shrank at the thought.

Joseph hopped out to open the fence gate, waiting a few moments for the dogs to catch up before closing it and hopping back in the truck. The plateau looked innocuous in the sunlight. The grass shone gold in the sun and not a blade stirred. Joseph climbed out of the pickup and stretched his arms high above his head. He turned a full circle. ‘It’s pretty remote for a camp,’ he said. ‘Most were along railway lines or adjacent to garrisons.’

‘Does that mean it’s unlikely to have been one?’ said Hannah.

‘It means it doesn’t follow the pattern, but that’s not evidence in itself.’ He turned to Alistair. ‘Are you aware of a blockhouse on the farm or a garrison?’

Alistair shook his head. ‘All I know is that my mother’s house was built after the war, but, as you say, that doesn’t mean there wasn’t anything before that.’

‘Kobie’s family have lived on the farm since the war, so those dwellings or at least the site of the dwellings might be older,’ said Hannah, looking at the wind pump and remembering her fright. The pump stood tall and silver in the bright morning, its blades still.

Joseph followed her gaze. ‘And the pump?’

‘Rachel speaks of a well,’ said Hannah. ‘That’s a discrepancy with the journal.’

‘Not necessarily,’ said Alistair. ‘Wind pumps were around during the war, but they only became common on farms later – this one could have been put in on a well site.’

Joseph nodded. ‘Rachel’s speaking of a well is also more in line with the fact that the British were all about keeping their costs to the minimum. It was a hugely expensive war, and the army was under enormous pressure from home to keep costs down. They wouldn’t have spent money on engineering for a camp.’

‘The British,’ Alistair added, ‘made do with whatever infrastructure was in place. That proved to be one of their biggest problems. Having to feed and supply such a huge force was almost impossible. They resorted to pillaging whatever they could from the farms they crossed.’

‘Rachel speaks of that – they stripped her farm of everything. And shot all the livestock. Why would they do that? When they needed horses and food?’

Alistair shook his head and shrugged. ‘I think it came down to the British commanders on the ground. If they couldn’t manage to drive the stock away and care for it, they annihilated everything so that the Boers couldn’t use it.’

‘It seems so barbaric, and for people who considered themselves civilised!’

‘Remember, they were trying to end the war as quickly as possible. They just grossly underestimated the Boers’ endurance – that of both the men and the women.’

Joseph walked down the line of trees, his eyes on the ground. When he came to the end, he turned at a ninety-degree angle and walked in another line until he was standing two hundred metres away from the pickup, where the ground began falling away. He then walked the edge of the plateau parallel to the line of trees. Halfway along, he stopped, squatted to the ground, and began shouting across the plateau to Hannah and Alistair.

When they reached him, he was kneeling on the ground, peering at an object lying half-buried. He looked up as they approached. ‘Our first find!’ he said.

‘Already?’ Hannah knelt next to him. ‘Josey, you are the luckiest bastard.’

‘That’s our mother you’re talking about.’ Joseph grinned at her. ‘Don’t lift it,’ he said quickly as she reached out. ‘We might have to do a survey of this whole site, which means mapping every inch with GIS before we can dig up anything.’

Alistair crouched down next to them. ‘It’s a ration tin,’ he said.

‘Yes, it is!’ said Joseph triumphantly. ‘And it might just be the beginning of a very interesting project.’

‘What does this mean?’ said Hannah, her face flushed with excitement.

‘It means,’ said Alistair dryly, ‘that someone had a British army ration tin.’

‘Don’t mock me!’ said Hannah crossly.

‘But it is all we can deduce from just one tin,’ said Joseph. ‘Those ration tins would have been distributed all over the country. Wherever a British soldier went, you could conceivably find a ration tin.’

‘Oh,’ said Hannah, somewhat deflated.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Joseph, his eyes smiling at Hannah. ‘What it does say is that this is a good site to pursue further. The Boer camps were fed with these tins. If this was indeed a camp, we will find plenty more of these.’ He stood and began to walk back towards the pickup.

‘What about the tin?’ called Hannah, still crouching.

Joseph turned and threw her a smile. ‘It’s been here for over a hundred years – it will still be here when we come back. Come on, I’m starving.’

Hannah turned to Alistair who was still bent over the tin. ‘Is it just me, or is my brother exceptionally annoying?’

‘It’s just you,’ said Alistair, not looking up, even when Hannah huffed an irritated sigh. ‘It’s amazing to think,’ he said, ‘that this tin was opened and the contents eaten by someone so long ago. A hungry homesick soldier, or a starving Boer child. It might have meant life to someone, maybe even your Rachel.’ He looked up and caught Hannah’s gaze.

She felt a surge of emotion for him, this man who was so rational and yet could be transported by a tin lying in the veld, moved to feel compassion for people so long ago. He stood and pulled her up to stand next to him, then looked around the plateau.

‘I feel the responsibility quite heavily. Whatever this place was, perhaps it’s waited long enough to have its story told.’

She touched his arm. ‘Strange that events could line up, my coming to Leliehoek, finding the journal, meeting you, Joseph’s coming. It’s a crazy coincidence.’