Rage - Smith Wilbur (читать книги онлайн без сокращений .TXT) 📗
Isabella, taken by surprise like everybody else, had come drifting downstairs, dressed for dinner with her shoulders and back bare, but her cool and distant poise had evaporated as she saw Sean. She squealed and rushed at him.
'It's been so boring since you went away!" She wouldn't let go of his arm until they went in to dinner, and even now she leaned forward to watch his lips as he talked, her forgotten soup cooling, avid to take in every word. When Shasa at the end of the table made a remark about Kenyan barbers and Sean's hair style, she rushed to her eldest brother's defence.
'I love his hair like that. You are so antediluvian sometimes, Papa.
He's beautiful. I swear if Sean ever cuts a single hair on his beautiful head, I will take vows of silence and chastity on the spot." 'A consummation devoutly to be prayed for,' murmured her father.
Centaine, although less effusive, was as delighted as any of them to have Sean home again. Of course, she knew every detail of the circumstances in which he had left. She and Shasa were the only ones in the family who did, but that had been almost six years ago, and things could change in that time. It was difficult to believe that anybody who looked like that, even more beautiful than her own beloved Shasa, and who was possessed of such charm and natural grace, could be entirely bad. She consoled herself that although he had made a few mistakes when he was a child, he was now a man.
Centaine had seldom seen more of a man, and she listened as attentively as the rest of them to his stories and laughed as merrily at his sallies.
Garry kept repeating, 'I didn't really believe you'd come. I sent that cable on an impulse. I wasn't even sure of your address." And then to Holly, who was sitting beside Sean at the long table, 'Isn't he wonderful, Holly - isn't he everything I told you?" Holly smiled and murmured polite agreement, and twisted slightly in her chair to prevent Sean pointing up the story he was telling by placing his hand on her thigh again. She glanced around the table, and caught Michael's eye. He was the only one who was not following Sean's tale with total concentration. Holly had only met Michael for the first time the previous day, when he arrived from Johannesburg for the wedding, but the two of them had found an immediate rapport, which had swiftly deepened as Holly had discovered Michael's protective concern and affection for Garry.
Now Michael raised an eyebrow at Holly, and smiled an apology at her. He had seen his elder brother looking at her, he had seen through Sean's devices to attract her attention, and had even seen her start and pale as Sean touched her beneath the table. He would talk to Sean after dinner, and quietly warn him off, for Garry himself would never see what was happening. He was too besotted by his u elder brother's return. It was up to Michael - it had always been his duty to protect Garry from Sean. In the meantime he smiled reassu once at Holly, and Sean intercepted the look and interpreted it acc rately. He showed no reaction. His expression was frank and ape and his voice sparkling and full of humour as he finished the stoi and the others all laughed, all except Michael and Holly.
'You are so funny,' Isabella sang. 'I just hate you for being m brother. If only I could find another boy who looked like you." 'There's not one of them good enough for you, Bella,' Sean saic but he was watching Michael, and as the laughter subsided, he asked, lightly, 'And so, Mickey, how is life on that commie newspaper c yours? Is it true that you are going to change its name to the ANt Times, or is it the Mandela Mail or the Moses Gama Gazette?" Michael laid down his knife and fork and met Sean's gaz squarely.
'The policy of the Golden City Mail is to defend the helpless, t( attempt to secure a decent dignified existence for all, and to tell th truth as we see it - at any cost." 'I don't know about that, Mickey,' Sean grinned at him. 'But couple of times out there in the bush I've wished that I had a copy all the Golden City Mail with me - yes, sir, every time I run out of toilel paper, I wish I had your column right there." 'Sean!" Shasa said sharply, and his indulgent expression faded for the first time since Sean's arrival. 'There are ladies present." 'Nana." Sean turned to Centaine. 'You have read Mickey's column, haven't you? Don't tell me you agree with those bright pink sentiments of his?" 'That's enough,' Shasa said sternly. 'This is a reunion and a celebration." 'I'm sorry, Pater." Sean was mock contrite. 'You are right. Let's talk about fun things. Let me tell Mickey about the Mau Mau in Kenya, and what they did to the white kids. Then he can tell me about his commie ANC friends here, and what he wants them to do to our kids." 'Sean, that's not fair,' Michael said softly. 'I am not a communist, and I have never advocated communism or the use of force--' 'That's not what you wrote in yesterday's edition. I had the great and glorious privilege of reading your column on the plane down from Jo'burg." 'What I actually wrote, Sean, was that Vorster and De La Rey between them are making the mistake of labelling as communist everything that our black population sees as desirable - civil rights, universal franchise, trade unions and black political organizations such as the ANC. By naming these as communist-inspired they are making the idea of communism highly attractive to our blacks." 'We've just got a black government in Kenya, with a convicted terrorist and murderer as the new head of state. That's why I'm getting out and moving to Rhodesia. And here is my own beloved brother paving the way for another black Marxist government of rabble-rousers and bomb-throwers right here in the good old Republic. Tell me, which of the terrorists do you fancy for president, Mickey, Mandela or Moses Gama?" 'I won't warn either of you again,' Shasa told them ominously. 'I will not abide politics at the dinner table." 'Daddy is right,' Isabella joined in. 'You are both being so utterly dreary - and just when I was beginning to really enjoy myself." 'And that's enough from the peanut gallery also,' Centaine picked out Isabella. 'Eat your food please, Mademoiselle, you are all skin and bones as it is." But she was studying Sean.
'He has been home six hours and already we are all at each other's throats,' she thought. 'He still has a talent for controversy. We must be wary of him - I wonder why he really came home." She found out very soon after dinner, when Sean asked to see her and Shasa in the gun room.
After Shasa had poured a tiny glass of Chartreuse for her, and balloon 'snifters of Hennessy for Sean and himself, they all settled down in the leather chairs. The men went through the ritual of preparing their cigars, cutting the tips and warming and finally lighting them with the cedarwood tapers.
'All right, Sean,' Shasa said. 'What did you want to talk to us about?" 'You know how we discussed the safari business, Pater, just before I left?" Shasa noticed how he showed no contrition as he mentioned his enforced departure. 'Well, I've had six years of experience now, and I won't offend you with false modesty. I'm one of the top hunters in the business. I've a list of over fifty clients who want to hunt with me again. I have their telephone numbers, you can ring them and ask them." 'All right, I will,' Shasa said. 'But go on." 'Ian Smith's government in Rhodesia is developing the safari business there. One of the concessions they are putting up for auction in two months' time is a plum." Shasa and Centaine listened in attentive silence, and when Sean finished almost an hour later, they exchanged a significant glance. They understood each other perfectly after thirty years of working so closely, and they did not have to speak to agree that Sean had made a virtuoso performance. He was a good salesman, and his figures added up to the promise of rich profits, but Shasa saw the little shadow at the back of his mother's dark eyes.
