It was a sea-green Chevrolet station wagon, and he didn't have to check the number plate to know that it was Tara's. The headlights of the Jaguar shone into the cab of the Chev and for an instant he had a full view of the driver. It was Tara's new chauffeur. He had seen him twice before, once at Weltevreden and once in the House of Assembly, but this time the driver was bare-headed and Shasa could see the full shape of his head.
As he had on both the previous occasions, Shasa had a strong sense of recognition. He had definitely met or known this man before, but the memory was eroded by time and quickly extinguished by his annoyance. The chauffeur was not permitted to use the Chev for his own private purposes, and yet here he was in the small hours of the morning driving around as though the vehicle belonged to him.
The Chev pulled away swiftly. The chauffeur had obviously recognized Shasa and the speed was proof of his guilt. Shasa's first instinct was to give chase and confront the man, but the traffic light was still red against him and while he waited for it to change, he had time to reflect. He was in too good a mood to spoil it with unpleasantness, besides which any confrontation at four in the morning would be undignified, and would inevitably lead to questions about his own presence at the same hour on the fringes of the city's notorious redlight area. There would be a better time and place to deal with the driver, and Shasa let him go, but he had neither forgiven nor forgotten.
Shasa parked the Jaguar in the garage at Weltevreden, and the green Chev was in its place at the end of the line of cars, betwee Garry's MG and Shasa's customized Land-Rover. As he passed i he laid his hand on the bonnet of the Chev and it was still hot, t metal ticking softly as it cooled. He nodded with satisfaction an went on up to the house, amused by the necessity to creep up to hid own suite like a burglar.
He still felt light and happy at breakfast and he hummed as loaded his plate with eggs and bacon from the silver chafing dish o the sideboard. He was the first one down but Garry was only minute behind him.
'The boss should always be the first man on the job, and tl last man off it,' he had taught Garry, and the boy had taken it t heart. 'No, no longer boy." Shasa corrected himself, as he studie Garry. His son was only an inch shorter than he was, but wid across the shoulders and heavier in the chest. Down the full lengt of the corridor Shasa had often heard him grunting over his hody building weights. Even though he had just shaved, Garry's jaw wa blue with beard that by evening would need the razor again, an despite the Brylcreem his hair was already springing up in unrul spikes.
He sat down beside Shasa, took a mouthful of his omelette an, immediately began talking shop. 'He just isn't up to the job an more, Pater. We need a younger man in that position, especiall with all the extra responsibility of the Silver River Mine coming o: stream." 'He has been with us twenty years, Garry,' Shasa said mildly.
'I'm not suggesting we shoot him, Dad. Just let him take his re tirement. He is almost seventy." 'Retirement will kill him." 'If he stays it will kill us." 'All right,' Shasa sighed. Garry was right, of course, the man hal outlived his usefulness. 'But I, will speak to him personally." 'Thanks, Dad." Garry's spectacles gleamed victoriously.
'Talking about the Silver River Mine, I have arranged for you to begin your stint up there just as soon as you have written your sup.
Garry spent more time at Centaine House than in his lecture room at business school. As a consequence, he was carrying one subjec for his Bachelor's degree in Commerce. He would write the supple mentary examination the following week and Shasa was sending bin up to work on the Silver River Mine for a year or two.
'After all, it has taken over from the old H'am now as th Company flagship. I want you to move more and more into th centre of things." He saw the glow of anticipation behind Garry'..
spectacles.
'Oh boy, am I looking forward to really starting work, after bashing the books all these dreary years." Michael came bursting breathlessly into the dining-room. 'Thank goodness, Pater, I thought I had missed you." 'Slow down, Mickey,' Shasa cautioned him. 'You'll burst a blood vessel. Have some breakfast." 'I'm not hungry this morning." Michael sat down opposite his father. 'I wanted to talk to you." 'Well, open fire then,' Shasa invited.
'Not here,' Michael demurred. 'I rather hoped we could talk in the gun room,' and all three of them looked grave. The gun room was only used on the most portentous occasions, and a request for a meeting in the gun room was not to be taken lightly.
Shasa glanced at his watch. 'Mickey, Harold Macmillan is addressing both houses--' 'I know, Pater, but this won't take long. Please, sir." The fact that Michael was calling him 'sir' underlined the seriousness of the request, but Shasa resented the deliberate timing.
Whenever Michael wanted to raise a contentious issue, he did so when Shasa's opportunity to respond was severely curtailed. The lad was as devious as his mother, whose child he indubitably was, spiritually as well as physically.
'Ten minutes, then,' Shasa agreed reluctantly. 'Will you excuse us please, Garry?" Shasa led the way down the passage and locked the gun-room door behind them.
'Very well." He took his usual place in front of the fireplace. 'What is it, my boy?" 'I've got a job, Dad." Michael was breathless again.
'A job. Yes, I know you have a part-time job as local stringer for the Mail. I enjoyed your report on the polo - in fact you read it to me. Very good it was,' Shasa grinned, 'all five lines of it." 'No, sir, I've got a full-time job. I spoke to the editor of the Mail and they have offered me a job as a cub reporter. I start the first of next month." Shasa's grin faded into a scowl. 'Damn it, Mickey. You can't be serious - what about your education? You have two more years to go at university." 'I am serious, sir. I will get my education on the paper." 'No,' Shasa raised his voice. 'No, I forbid it. I won't have you leaving university before you are capped." 'I'm sorry, sir. I've made up my mind." Michael was pale and trembling, yet he had that obstinate set expression that infuriated $hasa even more than the words - but he controlled himself.
'You know the rules,' Shasa said. 'I've made them clear to all of you. If you do things my way, there is no limit to the help I will giv you. If you go your own way, then you are on your own --' he too a breath, and then said it, surprised at how painful it was '-- like Sean." God, how he still missed his eldest son.
'Yes, sir,' Michael nodded. 'I know the rules." 'Well?" 'I have to do it, Sir. There is nothing else I want to do with my lif I want to learn to write. I don't want to go against you, Pater, but simply have to do it." 'This is your mother's doing,' Shasa said coldly. 'She has put yo up to this,' he accused, and Michael looked sheepish.
'Mater knows about it,' he admitted, 'but it's my decision aloin sir." 'You understand that you will be forfeiting my support? You' not receive another penny from me once you leave this hous You'll have to live on the salary of a cub reporter." 'I understand, sir,' Michael nodded.
'All right, then, Michael. Off you go,' he said, and Michael looke.
stunned.
'Is that all, sir?" 'Unless you have some other announcement to make." 'No, sir." Michael's shoulders slumped. 'Except that I love yo very much, Pater, and I appreciate all that you have done for me." 'You have,' said Shasa, 'a most peculiar way of demonstratin that appreciation, if you don't mind me saying so." He went to th door.