Joe put a hand on Hillela’s head in absolution. — Really beautiful. Hillela ought to see it.—
The day Hillela returned from the holiday a woman was sitting with Pauline under the dangling swags of orange bignonia creeper that made private one end of the verandah. The old dog came up barking blindly behind his cataracts, then recognized Hillela’s smell under new clothes and swung about panting joyfully while Pauline jumped up and stopped her where she had approached, hugging her, admiring — Olga, eh? Everything she chooses to wear is always exquisite — her voice whipping around them distractedly, a lasso rising and falling.
— Shall I bring out some tea when I’ve dumped my things?—
— No, no. I won’t be long: As soon as I’m free … I’ll come and hear all about … — Behind her, Hillela saw crossed legs, the stylized secondary female characteristic of curved insteps in high-heeled shoes, the red hair of the woman who had come that time with the Burger girl, Rosa.
Everyone else was out; Carole must have had a friend sleeping over, there were short pyjamas that didn’t belong under the pillow on the second bed. The kitchen was empty; Bettie in her yard room. Beginning to move again along the familiar tracks of life in this house, Hillela went into the dining area of the living-room to see if there was any fruit in the big Swazi bowl kept there. The voices on the verandah just beneath the windows did not interest her much. Pauline’s less arresting than usual, evading rather than demanding attention: —The woman who works for me sleeps in; her friends come and go through the yard all the time … she has to have a private life of her own. There’s someone Joe’s given a job to — we’ve converted the second garage for him. So even if I had some sort of out-house … it’s just not possible … even if I got a promise from Bettie and that young chap not to say anything … how would I know that their friends … We’re right on the street, it’s not a big property. There’s nowhere anyone like that would be safe.—
— It wouldn’t be for long. Haven’t you somewhere in the house; anything.—
— If it were somebody I knew. I’d feel the obligation, never mind the consequences, I assure you. But what you tell me — it’s just a name. And you don’t know the person, either, I mean, through no fault of yours it might just be a plant … a trap.—
— These ‘strangers’ are more than friends. There are times when personal feelings don’t come into it. Now … well, people are expected to put their actions where their mouths have been.—
At supper Sasha was there but Carole had gone with a youth camp project to build a clinic for blacks in the Transkei.
— Tell us about Olga’s house — is it lovely? Up on the hills or near the beach? Oh of course it must be lovely! What heaven, just to run out of bed straight onto the beach, and on that side of the headland, completely private, right away from the crowds. And did you eat lots of gorgeous crayfish — oh crayfish straight out of the sea, with lemon and butter … Pure ozone going down. No wonder you look so well, Olga’s transformed you as only Olga can. Even waterskiing lessons! She just has a gift for giving pleasure, a special sort of generosity of her own. — Pauline herself seized upon a generosity and sisterly pride as if something sadly discovered to have been packed away in herself. Her interest in Olga’s beach house, in the outings and beach parties (—And they liked your guitar-playing in the moonlight, eh? — ) worked up intoxicatingly in her, that glance of hers that always seemed to create its own public found an agitating response invisible to others at table. — So you didn’t only see the dolphins, you actually swam among them? Those wonderful creatures. Joe, what about that record? Wasn’t there once a record of dolphins singing or talking? Made under the sea? Cousteau or somebody. It would be a nice present for Hillela to give Olga, to thank her, I must see if I can get it — She began to eat stolidly, eyes down on the plate like a child who has been forced to do so. The withdrawal of animation left a vacuum from which no-one could escape. Another voice came out of her, for Joe alone. — And there’s your work to think of. That’s what I should have said. That’s the point. If we — all right, I, but it’s the same thing, no-one would separate the culpability, would they — if we were to get involved in this kind of thing … It’d only have to come out once, and your credibility—
He closed his eyes momentarily and opened them again.
— I mean professional integrity would be finished. For good. And what you can do in court is of far more importance—
He moved his head, prompting correction.
— No, well, I’m not making any excuses. We know nothing is more important than what people like that have done … but your work’s absolutely necessary, too, in the same context. One has to be sensible. I should have made that point. She should go to others for this kind of thing. I should have told her. Not lawyers’ houses. I should have said, if you were to be accused of being involved in any way other than professionally, you’d never be able to take on such cases again … would you? They ought to understand they also need people like you.—
— You acted correctly. That’s the end of it.—
The boy and girl saw Pauline’s hands falter on knife and fork. She put them down and her hands sought each other, each stiff finger pushed through the interstices between those of the other hand. — ‘People are expected to put their actions where their mouths have been.’ You can imagine how the word will get around. She’s the kind who’ll see to that.—
Joe dismissed this with a twist of lip and tongue to dislodge a tomato pip from a tooth.
Pauline drew her hair back tightly held on her crown a moment, exposing her nakedness, the temples that were always covered, then dropped the thick hair again. — Dolphins, Hillela. I love those stories about how they save drowning people and push sinking fishing-boats to shore. I wish they were true.—
Whatever the reason, the parents must have gone out later that night. They couldn’t have been there? Sasha and his cousin helped Bettie wash up and gossiped in the kitchen. Bettie’s nails, outgrown the patches of magenta varnish in the middle, flashed through the dirty water. — Did Miss Olga take her girl with her or her boy?—
— Jethro and Emily came. At least, they followed by train.—
— Lucky, lucky. I want to go to the sea. Sasha, why don’t you take me sometimes?—
— Come on, Bettie … when we go on holiday you go on your own holiday, you don’t have to do the same old housework in a different place.—
Bettie’s laughter jiggled her like a puppet. — I want to swim and get a tan same like Hillela. — They all laughed — she flung her arm, wet hand extended, round Hillela and Hillela’s head rested a moment under her cocked one, cradled against her mauvish-black, damp neck.
Sasha had his mother’s insistence on facing the facts. — You wouldn’t be allowed on the beach. Isn’t that true, Hillela?—
— Well, Jethro’s afraid of the sea anyway, but Emily used to go down early in the morning, when nobody was there.—
— They lucky, like I say. Miss Olga gave them a fridge for their rooms. Emily’s pay is very high, very high. I wish I could be working for Miss Olga!—
— Better than your pay?—
— Better than my pay, Sasha? More than ninety pounds a month.—