Hobbling, she retrieved her leggings from the floor and a clean T-shirt, and sat on her bed, about to pull on her running shoes, when she changed her mind, sliding her injured toe into flip-flops instead. She hadn’t gone for a run since she had arrived in Leliehoek. But not today, with the restless night still pounding behind her eyes and her toe bruised and throbbing. It wasn’t five o’clock yet, but she felt compelled to get out of the house.
As she started her car, she thought how wonderfully still the small town was at this time. Glancing across the square, she could see Kathryn’s lights on. No doubt she was hard at work already, her ovens filling the shop with scents of cakes and pastries. But Hannah turned left at the corner and headed out of town, finding herself driving towards Goshen. Soon, she was climbing the hill behind the house, and she wound down her window to breathe in the fresh morning air. The sun was climbing too, and with it came the grass birds, clinging to the grass stems, bending the heavy seed heads with the weight of their little bodies. The morning light brushed the hillside in bright gold, and Hannah felt herself relax, congratulating herself. As her headache disappeared, so did the vague nausea. She wished she had brought something to eat. A rusk with a cup of coffee would’ve been perfect.
Instead of opening the wire gate for her car, she parked there and ducked through the triangular gap at the bottom of the fence, deciding to walk on to the plateau rather. The sun was at her back and wonderfully warm. As she crunched through the wet grass, each step raised the scents of dew and dust that tangle together in summer. She indulged a memory and stopped to pull a long stem from its stalk, biting the soft green end and relishing the sweetness.
The wind pump and reservoir came into view as she crested the plateau. The light sat gently on them, quiet seeping from the still air. What was it about this place that was so compelling? What was this almost visceral connection?
Walking around the reservoir until she came to a concrete water trough, she stepped up onto it to look over the edge of the reservoir where the pipe trickled water into the pool. The wind pump stood tall overhead, its metal frame weathered and rusted in parts. The blades were still, reflecting bright silver in the sun. Hannah folded her arms on the wall and rested her head on them. From this angle, with the stand of gum trees behind her, the view stretched over the plateau to the hills beyond. No sign of human habitation anywhere. Isolated. The silence grew heavier and seemed to hang in the air.
With a deafening clank, the wind pump blades swung into motion. Hannah started and fell off the trough. The wind pump was now shrieking, faster and faster. A freezing wind blew over the plateau and into the gum trees behind her, raising a skeletal rattle through their grey leaves. She picked herself up and rubbed her arms, now white with goosebumps. Her ears rang with the metallic scream of the wind pump. Glancing back towards the trees, she noticed in confusion that they stood completely still. Her brain wouldn’t compute what she saw, and the temperature plummeted further. The rush of wind through the trees whistled around her, but the trees stood unmoved. She looked from side to side, expecting to see the grass folded over in the face of the wind. It was undisturbed. Backing away, she broke into a run. Her flip-flops slipped in the wet grass, and she tripped over tussocks, but kept on till she got to the fence. She ducked through and saw Alistair’s pickup pulling up next to her own, the dogs milling around her legs.
Alistair slammed his door and came striding towards her, concern in every movement. He must have felt the chill in her arms as he grasped her, and he began to rub them vigorously. ‘Are you okay? What happened?’
Hannah drew a breath and felt her heart slow its frantic pace, relief replacing the crazy fear. ‘I’m fine. Just spooked.’ She looked up at him. ‘But I didn’t imagine it. One minute, it was beautiful and sunny. Then the next, the temperature dropped to freezing and the wind pump started up.’ She looked back towards the plateau. ‘It’s still going – can you hear it? But there’s no wind. And it’s warm here.’
Alistair’s eyes were puzzled. ‘It can be unsettling up there. I don’t come up unless I have to.’
Hannah felt his gentle diplomacy and it irritated her enough to snap, ‘What are you doing here then?’
He stepped away from her. ‘I take the dogs for a run every morning and I saw your car from the bottom field. I came to see you – I mean, to see if you were okay.’
She pulled herself up, ‘You still don’t believe what I’m saying, do you? Nothing could possibly be up there. Kobie and I have just imagined it all. Right? Why would I need help?’ She looked past him.
Turning from her, he walked to his Toyota, wrenching open the door and pulling a fleece from the seat. He came back to where she was still standing, stony and remote.
‘Put this on, you’re cold.’
‘I’m fine.’
His face dark, teeth gritted, he growled, ‘Put it on.’ She angrily pushed her arms into the huge sleeves and he zipped up the front roughly. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and glowered at her. Furious, and not sure exactly why, Hannah turned towards her Mazda. Alistair followed her and firmly closed her door. He stood back as she drove off without a further word between them.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Hannah was setting up for book club the next afternoon. She and Barbara had spent the morning together, serving the odd customer and registering the new stock Hannah had ordered. Older townspeople, who didn’t own computers, still thought Amazon was a jungle in South America, and Loot something to do with pirates, and depended on Hannah ordering specially for them. The courier service had delivered the stock that day, and Hannah had begun to phone customers to let them know their books had arrived. She set out catalogues and a few reviews of the latest published books, hoping the book club might find something interesting.
The doorbell tinkled and Sarah Barlow looked into the reading room. ‘I know I’m early – I wondered if you might need some help?’ She began to unpack a wicker basket, placing on the table plates of scones, and cheerful jars of cherry and gooseberry jam.
‘Those look wonderful. Are they your jams?’
‘I make them every year, even now that I won’t let Neil touch them. I produce far more than I should. Please keep these, Hannah.’
Hannah smiled at her, appreciating the sunny atmosphere which seemed to follow Sarah. ‘That would be great, thank you.’
‘May I get the tea things for you?’ said Sarah.
‘Thanks, they’re laid on trays in my kitchen.’ Sarah bustled out and Hannah stood back from the table, checking the cloth and flowers, still a little anxious that she might not hit the mark with the ladies of Leliehoek.
Sarah returned with the tray of cups and saucers, and began to set them out, placing a teaspoon on each saucer and turning the teaspoons so that they lined up in identical rows. She glanced at Hannah. ‘That’s a very old ledger you have on the kitchen table. Did you come across it in the shop?’
Hannah sighed. She should have put it away. She was still smarting from her encounter with Alistair yesterday, and had run out of ideas which might lead her closer to Rachel. Taking a breath, she folded her arms across her waist as she leant back against a bookshelf. ‘Remember I told you I had found something in the shop which referred to a camp called Goshen?’ Sarah nodded. ‘That ledger is a journal, written by a Boer girl called Rachel Badenhorst of Silwerfontein.’ Hannah saw Sarah’s eyes widen. ‘It means something to you?’
Sarah was quiet for a moment. ‘I know Silwerfontein – I grew up there almost as much as I did on Goshen. Karl is a bit younger than me, but our families have been neighbours for generations. His mother, Gisela, and mine were very close.’ Sadness passed over her face as she said, ‘After so many generations of running together as kids, Marilie and Alistair were the first ones to marry. It was like losing my own child when she died. Two, actually. Alistair became a different person after that.’