'They have acquitted them --' 'They have set them all free --' 'Nokwe, Makgatho, Nelson Mandela - they are all free!" 'Judge Rumpff found every one of them not guilty of treason --' Moses Gama stopped dead in his tracks and glowered at them as they surrounded him, dancing joyfully, and laughing in the pale English sunlight, these sons and daughters of Africa.
'I do not believe it,' Moses snarled angrily, and somebody shoved a crumpled copy of the Observer at him. 'Here! Read it! It's true." Moses snatched the newspaper from him. He read swiftly, scanning the front-page article. His face was set and bleak, and then abruptly he thrust the paper into his pocket and shouldered his way out of the group. He strode away down the tarmac pathway, a tall brooding figure and Tara had to run with Benjamin to catch up with him.
'Moses, wait for us." He did not even glance at her, but his fury was evident in the set of his shoulders and the fixed snarl on his lips.
'What is it, Moses, what has made you so angry? We should rejoice that our friends are free. Please speak to me, Moses." 'Don't you understand?" he demanded. 'Are you so witless that you do not see what has happened?" 'I don't - I'm sorry --' 'They have come out of this with enormous prestige, especially Mandela. I had thought that he would spend the rest of his life in prison, or better still, that they would have dropped him through the trap of the gallows." 'Moses!" Tara was shocked. 'How can you speak like that? Nelson Mandela is your comrade." 'Nelson Mandela is my rival to the death,' he told her flatly. 'There can only be one ruler in South Africa, either him or me." 'I did not understand." 'You understand very little, woman. It is not necessary that you should. All you must learn to do is obey me." She annoyed and irritated him with her perpetual moods and jealousies. He found it more difficult each day to accept her cloying adoration. Her soft pale flesh had begun to revolt him and each time it took more of an effort to feign passion. He longed for the day that he could be rid of her - but that day was not yet.
'I am sorry, Moses, if I have been stupid and made you angry." They walked on in silence, but when they came back to the Serpentine, Tara asked diffidently, 'What will you do now?" 'I have to lay claim to my rightful place as the leader of the people.
I cannot allow Mandela to have a clear field." 'What will you do?" she repeated.
'I must go back - back to South Africa." 'Oh, no!" she gasped. 'You cannot do that. It is too dangerous, Moses. They will seize you the minute you set foot on South African soil." 'No,' he shook his head. 'Not if I have your help. I will remain underground, but I will need you." 'Of course. Whatever you want - but, my darling, what will you hope to achieve by taking such a dreadful risk?" With an effort he put aside his anger, and looked down at her.
'Do you remember where we first met, the first time we spoke to each other?" 'In the corridors of the houses of parliament,' she answered promptly. 'I will never forget." He nodded. 'You asked me what I was doing there, and I replied that I would tell you one day. This is the day." He spoke for another hour, softly, persuasively, and as she listened her emotions rose and fell, alternating between a fierce joy and a pervading dread.
'Will you help me?" he asked at the end.
'Oh, I am so afraid for you." 'Will you do it?" 'There is nothing I can deny you,' she whispered. 'Nothing." A week later Tara telephoned Centaine at Rhodes Hill and was surprised by the clarity of the connection. She spoke to each of the children in turn. Sean was monosyllabic and seemed relieved to surrender the telephone to Garry, who was solemn and pedantic, in his first year at business school. It was like talking to a little old man, and Garry's single topic of original news was the fact that his father had at last allowed him to start work part-time, as an office boy at Courtney Mining and Finance. 'Pater is paying me two pounds ten shillings a day,' he announced proudly. 'And soon I an to have my own office with my name on the door." When his turn came to speak to her, Michael read her a poem o his own, about the sea and the gulls. It was really very good, so he enthusiasm was genuine. 'I love you so much,' he whispered. 'Pleas come home soon." Isabella was petulant. 'What present are you going to brin me?" she demanded. 'Daddy bought me a gold locket with a real diamond --' and Tara was guiltily relieved when her daughter passed the telephone back to Centaine.
'Don't worry about Bella,' Centaine soothed her. 'We've had a little confrontation and mademoiselle's feathers are a wee bit ruffled." 'I want to buy a coming-home present for Shasa,' Tara told her. 'I have found the most gorgeous medieval altar that has been converted into a chest. I thought it would be just perfect for his cabinet office at the House. Won't you measure the length of the wall on the right of his desk, under the Pierneef paintings - I want to be certain it will fit in there." Centaine sounded a little puzzled. It was unusual for Tara to show any interest in antique furniture. 'Of course, I will measure it for you,' she agreed dubiously. 'But remember Shasa has very conservative tastes - I wouldn't choose anything too - ah --' she hesitated delicately, not wanting to denigrate her daughter-in-law's taste, 'too obvious or flamboyant." Tll phone you tomorrow evening." Tara did not acknowledge the advice. 'You can read me the measurements then." Two days later Moses accompanied her when she returned to the antique dealer in Kensington High Street. Together they made meticulous measurements of both the exterior and interior of the altar. It was truly a splendid piece of work. The lid was inlaid with mosaic of semi-precious stones while effigies of the apostles guarded the four corners. They were carved in iyory and rare woods and decorated with gold leaf. The panels depicted scenes of Christ's agony, from the scourging to the crucifixion. Only after careful examination did Moses nod with satisfaction.
'Yes, it will do very well." Tara gave the dealer a bank draft for six thousand pounds.
'Price is Shasa's yardstick of artistic value,' she explained to Moses while they waited for his friends to come and collect the piece. 'At six thousand pounds he won't be able to refuse to have it in his office." The dealer was reluctant to hand the chest over to the three young black men who arrived in an old van in response to Moses' summons.
'It is a very agile piece of craftsmanship,' he protested. 'I would feel a lot happier if you entrusted the packing and shipping to a firm of experts. I can recommend --' 'Please don't worry,' Tara reassured him. 'I accept full responsibility from now on." 'It's such a beautiful thing,' the dealer said. 'I would simply curl up and die if it were even scratched." He wrung his hands piteously as they carried it out and loaded it into the back of the van. A week later Tara flew back to Cape Town.
The day after the crate cleared Customs in Cape Town docks, Tara held a small, but select, surprise party in Shasa's cabinet office to present him with her gift. The prime minister was unable to attend, but three cabinet ministers came and with Blaine and Centaine and a dozen others crowded into Shasa's suite to drink Bollinger champagne and admire the gift.
Tara had removed the rosewood Georgian sofa table that had previously stood against the panelled wall, and replaced it with the chest. Shasa had some idea of what was in store. Centaine had dropped a discreet hint, and of course the charge had appeared on his latest statement from Lloyds Bank.
'Six thousand pounds!" Shasa had been appalled. 'That's the price of a new Rolls." What on earth was the damned woman thinking of?