'You're getting too thin,' she scolded him fondly. She had guessed from his telephone call that he wanted a serious discussion, and they had their own traditions. Centaine was dressed in an open-neck cotton blouse and slacks with comfortable hiking boots, and without discussing it she took his arm and they set out along the path that skirted her rose gardens and climbed the untended hillside.
The last part of the ascent was steep and the path rough, but Centaine took it without pause and came out on the summit ahead of him.
Her breathing was hardly altered, and within a minute had returned to normal. 'She keeps herself in wonderful condition, Heaven alone knows what she spends on health cures and potions, and she exercises like a professional athlete,' Shasa thought as he grinned down at her proudly.
He placed an arm around her small firm waist.
'Isn't it beautiful.*' Centaine leaned lightly against him and looked out over the cold green Benguela current, as it swirled, decked in lacy foam, around Africa's heel, which like a medieval knight was spurred and armoured with black rock. 'This is one of my favourite places." 'Whoever would have guessed it,' Shasa murmured, and led her to the flat lichen-covered rock that was her seat.
She perched up on it, hugging her knees and he sprawled on the bed of moss below her. They were both silent for a few moments, and Shasa wondered how often they had sat like this at this special place of hers, and how many heavy decisions they had taken here.
'Do you remember Manfred De La Rey?" he asked suddenly, but he was unprepared for her reaction. She started and looked down at him, colour draining from her cheeks, with an expression he could not fathom.
'Is something wrong, Mater?" He began to rise, but she gestured at him to remain seated.
'Why do you ask about him?" she demanded, but he did not reply directly.
'Isn't it strange how our paths seem to cross with his family? Ever since his father rescued us, when I was an infant and we were castaways living with the Bushmen in the Kalahari." 'We needn't go over all that again,' Centaine stopped him, and her tone was brusque. Shasa realized he had been tactless. Manfred's father had robbed the H'am Mine of almost a million pounds' worth of diamonds, an act of vengeance for fancied wrongs that he had convinced himself Centaine had inflicted on him. For that crime he had served almost fifteen years of a life sentence for robbery, and had been pardoned only when the Nationalist government had come to power in 1948. At the same time the Nationalists had pardoned many other Afrikaners serving sentences for treason and sabotage and arched robbery, convicted by the Smuts' government when they had attempted to disrupt the country's war effort against Nazi Germany. However, the stolen diamonds had never been recovered, and their loss had almost destroyed the fortune that Centaine Courtney had built up with so much labour, sacrifice and heartache.
'Why do you mention Manfred De La Rey?" she repeated her question.
'I had an invitation from him to a meeting. A clandestine meeting - all very cloak and dagger." 'Did you go?" He nodded slowly. 'We met at a farm in the Free State, and there were two other cabinet ministers present." 'Did you speak to Manfred alone?" she asked, and the tone of the question, the fact that she used his Christian name, caught Shasa's attention. Then he remembered the unexpected question that Manfred De La Rey had put to him.
'Has your mother ever spoken about me?" he had asked, and faced by Centaine's present reaction to his name, the question took on a new significance.
'Yes, Mater, I spoke to him alone." 'Did he mention me?" Centaine demanded, and Shasa gave a little chuckle of puzzlement.
'He asked the same question - whether you ever spoke about him.
Why are the two of you so interested in each other?" Centaine's expression turned bleak, and he saw her close her mind to him. It was a mystery he would not solve by pursuing it openly, he would have to stalk it.
'They made me a proposition." And he saw her interest reawaken.
'Manfred? A proposition? Tell me." 'They want me to cross the floor." She nodded slowly, showing little surprise and not immediately rejecting the idea. He knew that if Blaine were here it would have been different. Blaine's sense of honour, his rigid principles, would have left no room for manoeuvre. Blaine was a Smuts man, heart and blood, and even though the old field-marshal had died of a broken heart soon after the Nationalists unseated him and took over the reins of power, still Blaine was for ever true to the old man's memory.
'I can guess why they want you,' Centaine said slowly. 'They need a top financial brain, an organizer and a businessman. It's the one thing they lack in their cabinet." He nodded. She had seen it instantly, and his enormous respect for her was confirmed yet again.
'What price are they willing to pay?" she demanded.
'A cabinet appointment - minister of mines and industry." He saw her eyes go out of focus, and cross in a myopic stare as she gazed out to sea. He knew what that expression meant. Centaine was calculating, juggling with the future, and he waited latiently until her eyes snapped back into focus.
'Can you see any reason for refusing?" she asked.
'How about my political principles?" 'How do they differ from theirs?" 'I am not an Afrikaner." 'That might be to your advantage. You will be their token Englishman. That will give you a special status. You will have a freer rein.
They will be more reluctant to fire you than if you were one of their own." 'I don't agree with their native policy, this apartheid thing of theirs, it's just financially unsound." 'Good Lord, Shasa. You don't believe in equal political rights for blacks, do you? Not even Jannie Smuts wanted that. You don't want another Chaka ruling us, black judges and a black police force working for a black dictator?" She shuddered. 'We'd get pretty short shrift from them." 'No, Mater, of course not. But this apartheid thing is merely a device for grabbing the whole pie. We have to give them a slice of it, we can't hog it all. That's a certain recipe for eventual bloody revolution." 'Very well, chbri. If you are in the cabinet, you can see to it that they get a fair crack of the whip." He looked dubious, and made a side-show of selecting a cigarette from his gold case and lighting it.
'You have a special talent, Shasa,' Centaine went on persuasively.
'It's your duty to use it for the good of all." Still he hesitated, he wanted her to declare herself fully. He had to know if she wanted this as much as he did.
'We can be honest with each other, chbri. This is what we have worked towards since you were a child. Take this job and do it well, after that who knows what else may follow." They were both silent then, they knew what they hoped would follow. They could not help themselves, it was their nature always to strive towards the highest pinnacle.
'What about Blaine?" Shasa said at last. 'How will he take it? I don't look forward to telling him." 'I'll do that,' she promised. 'But you will have to tell Tara." 'Tara,' he sighed. 'Now that will be a problem." They were silent again, until Centaine asked, 'How will you do it?
If you cross the floor it will expose you to a blaze of hostile publicity." So it was agreed without further words, only the means remained to be discussed.
'At the next general election I will simply campaign in different colours,' Shasa said. 'They will give me a safe seat." 'So we have a little time to arrange the details then." They discussed them for another hour, planning with all the meticulous attention that had made them such a formidably successful team over the years, until Shasa looked up at her.