Clare Houston: An Unquiet Place

She saw Alistair every day too. He joined them for lunch and dinner, and Hannah looked forward to seeing him, though they were never alone.

One afternoon at the lunch table, Alistair laid down his knife and fork and looked at Neil.

‘Dad, I’ve been thinking a lot about the tour thing, and I’ve got an idea. You know I visited old Mrs Venter at the Van Rooyen place?’

Neil nodded at him and wiped his mouth with a napkin.

‘I’ve been worrying about her all alone there… I want to put in an offer to buy the farm. Her children are useless. I think they’d jump at the money.’ He paused when Neil sat back in his chair in surprise, and then said quickly, ‘I know it sounds crazy, but it’s an amazing setting, an original house from the war and, if we could restore it, it would make a perfect guest house. We wouldn’t have to build on Goshen, and we would be helping her out too. We could put her in a cottage on the property so she doesn’t have to leave. There are stables we could restore—’

Neil had raised his hand to stop Alistair. ‘You’ve put a lot of thought into this. Have you run the numbers?’

‘Yes. I think we could recoup costs from stock sales and the business over the next five years.’

Hannah watched as Neil turned to Sarah. ‘What do you think?’ Alistair’s mother smiled at him. ‘I think you are the most thoughtful, generous, clever man. I’m so proud of you.’

Alistair reached across the table, covering her hand and squeezing it. Hannah could see tears springing to Sarah’s eyes, but she covered up by turning to Hannah and saying brightly, ‘What do you think about it?’

‘You can’t ask me something so important… I’m just a visitor here, Sarah,’ Hannah said, glancing around, and then hurriedly buttering a slice of bread. She caught Neil’s open mouth, about to contradict her, stopped by a quick shake of Alistair’s head. Her thoughts scrambled. Was Alistair withdrawing from her? She had thought he was simply giving her space, but maybe with Esme’s death he was able to move forward. Maybe now he could do that without her. An unfamiliar fear blossomed in her, and she pushed it down. Wasn’t this what she wanted? To be able to leave Alistair without breaking him? The meal left her disturbed, and she found herself restless for the first time since she had come to stay.

Karl came to Goshen to see Hannah. He walked in, an old broken man. His life in tatters, he wept, holding tightly to her hand. ‘I’m so sorry, Hannah. I’m so sorry for what she did.’ Hanah had stroked his hand with her thumb as he cried. Esme had been buried next to Marilie in the Dutch Reformed churchyard. The whole community had come to the funeral, for Karl’s sake. Hannah thought of a great rock about to topple down a hillside being propped up and held by others.

Karl’s nephew from Pretoria was coming to help him on the farm, he told her. ‘It’s all I have left, that farm. The Wilderness house is on the market. I never want to see that place again. Now I feel like I need to sink into the farm, that it will heal me somehow, you know?’ Hannah nodded and thought of Wolf returning to Silwerfontein and probably feeling the same way.

A few days later, Sarah came to Hannah’s room to tell her that Karl had phoned to ask her to help clear out Esme’s things. ‘It seems a bit soon, don’t you think?’ When Hannah shrugged, she sighed. ‘Poor man. I feel so desperately sorry for him. He’s insisting he wants to put the house in order, get on with farm business. His nephew, Pieter, arrives next weekend. Karl wants the house ready for him. Do you want to come across with me today?’

Hannah was quiet for a moment, trying to untwist the emotions knotting in her. A chance to look through Gisela’s things in the Ou Huis, but then, was she ready for whatever she’d find? Could she deal with finding nothing? Deal with Rachel’s story ending just where it was? She met Sarah’s searching gaze. ‘I think I will. I need a change of scenery.’

They drove over in the afternoon and Lena showed them into the large house. It was strangely decorated. Sarah saw Hannah’s reaction as they walked in. ‘Most of this is original Silwerfontein furniture. It’s taken as a given that no one is allowed to get rid of it, but Esme hated it. Shame, she tried so hard to modernise the house.’

Hard angles, glass and chrome tables, and beige-leather lounge suites jostled for place with the heavy antiques – a sad expression of Esme’s struggle with her life here, Hannah thought.

They found the main bedroom. It looked as if it had been decorated for a teenager. Pink paint and a white shaggy carpet met a wall of white-and-gold cupboards overflowing with clothes. Many outfits still had their tags attached, and when they opened the doors, they were hit with Esme’s overpowering musky perfume. Hannah gagged. ‘I think I’ll go outside, Sarah. Do you mind?’

Sarah had her back to Hannah. ‘Go ahead. I won’t be too long. This is a recce visit really. I’ll have to bring some helpers back with me to tackle all of this. I think we should send it all to a Joburg charity shop. We can’t have people recognising her stuff in Leliehoek or even Bethlehem.’

Hannah moved slowly down the passage to the back door. She could hear Lena putting a tea tray together. Once she was outside, the sun was gloriously warm. She breathed deeply and caught the scent of honeysuckle drifting on a slight breeze. As she turned towards it, she saw that she had come out near to the little house where Karl’s mother had lived. Manoeuvring her crutches down the path, she was about to climb the single step when Karl came around the corner. Hannah felt a pang of guilt that she was there, but Karl approached her with a smile.

‘I’m here with Sarah,’ she said, stumbling a bit on a paving stone. Karl steadied her elbow and helped her up onto the veranda. He leant against the balustrade. ‘I’ve always loved this house. My ouma lived here. Then my mother moved in when Esme and I married. His face shadowed for a moment, and he drew a breath. ‘It must be the oldest building on the farm, did you know that? It was the original homestead. The British burnt it down during the Boer War and then the family rebuilt it after. These stone walls saw a lot. Ten or fifteen years later, they built the main house.’ He glanced at her, leaning on her crutches. ‘After all that’s happened, are you still interested in my family?’

She nodded and he pulled the key from his pocket, unlocking the door and standing aside for Hannah to go in first.

The house smelt exactly the same as it had those months back, dusty and closed up, but it was warm, the sun stretching on the carpet. Karl crossed the small sitting room and knelt at the display cabinet, opening the bottom drawer where Hannah had found the family Bible. ‘My mother spent years researching her family. You might be interested in her writing.’ He pulled out a black cardboard-covered notebook and a lever arch file which was labelled, ‘Tax’. ‘She collected all sorts of things, wrote off to the archives and got copies of documents. It filled her time in those last years and I was glad of it. I just was never interested in hearing about it.’ He sat back on his heels, passing the file and notebook to Hannah. ‘I regret that now. I miss her still. She was such a strong woman. My dad died when I was only ten, and she farmed by herself until I took over. I wish I had half her courage.’

Hannah smiled at him sadly. ‘Karl, I’m sorry for my part in Esme’s breakdown. It seems like I tipped her over the edge, pushing with this stuff.’

Karl hauled himself to his feet. ‘She and my mother didn’t get on. Esme had a troubled childhood, and I always wondered if she was abused by her own mother. She couldn’t bear anything to do with the past. She cut herself off from her family completely, wouldn’t even talk about them. And then, when Marilie died, she just shattered. I couldn’t put the pieces back together.’ He sighed, his arms hanging at his sides, the grief heavy on him. Then he pulled his shoulders back, straightening to his full height. ‘You take as long as you need with those,’ he said, pointing to the bundle under Hannah’s arm.