The Blue Mountains of Kabuta by Hilary Wilde Page A

was a strange question to answer. Did she like him? Sometimes she did. At others she hated him. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he stopped calling her little Jon, but that was obviously how he saw her: as Uncle Ned’s ‘little Jon’. Perhaps she was being oversensitive about it? Maybe she should try to see him differently, ignore his teasing and be more friendly. After all, if he was going to marry her mother . . .’
    When he returned, she smiled at him. ‘Alex, why do people keep asking me if I’m going to sell the farm? That’s another thing. What is the name of the farm? Mr Williams did tell me, but I’ve forgotten.’
    He sat down, stretching out his long legs as he handed her the ice cream. ‘The name is Jabula. It means happy.’
    â€˜Jabula. Jabula,’ Jon repeated. ‘It’s rather nice. Was Uncle Ned so happy?’
    â€˜Yes, very happy, but only after he had battled with years of drought and hail and then people let him down, and then, quite suddenly, his luck changed and he managed to buy this farm on a mortgage, and he was so delighted with it that he called it Jabula.’
    â€˜And yours?’
    â€˜Mine was called Mukwene. That means a big mountain. Now it’s known as the Wild Life Sanctuary.’ He smiled. ‘Are you interested in titles? Madeleine’s father’s farm is named Pumula. That means peace, but anything farther removed from a peaceful atmosphere would be hard to find!’
    â€˜Why?’
    He shook his head. ‘You’ll be invited there to dinner and can see what I mean. Incidentally, our dorp is called Somahaha. That causes some laughter.’
    â€˜Somahaha? Why?’
    He smiled. ‘So-ma-ha-ha,’ he said slowly.
    She laughed. Some of the tension she had felt before was leaving her.
    â€˜Our nearest town, which isn’t very large, is called Qwaleni. Odd names to you, I suppose, but . . .’ He paused and gave her a wry smile. ‘Dare I say you’ll get used to it, or shall I have my head bitten off for saying those words?’
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ she said, embarrassed, ‘I didn’t mean to. I’m a bit edgy.’ She leaned forward, suddenly able to confide in him. ‘You see, I have so much to learn and sometimes I wonder if I ever will live up to Uncle Ned’s trust in me. He must have believed I could run the farm or else he would have sold it and left me the money.’
    â€˜Smoke?’ Alex asked, and added, ‘No, of course you don’t. Know something, Jon? Your uncle was a crafty old devil. When he made a plan and set his heart on it, he had an amazing knack of getting what he wanted done and in his own way. He obviously wanted you to have the chance to be completely independent and to learn to stand on your own feet. So he left you the farm.’
    â€˜He didn’t want to sell it?’
    â€˜No.’ Alex hesitated and Jon had the feeling that he was not sure whether to tell her more. However, he seemed to have made up his mind, for he leaned forward. ‘When I needed more land for my Sanctuary I offered to buy this farm. He refused to sell it. I happen to know that a number of others wanted to buy the farm, too, but he always said No.’
    â€˜Why?’
    â€˜Because he wanted to give it to you.’ He looked round and Jon saw that the cricketers were slowly walking out to the pitch; the children, shouting and laughing, were making for the pool, followed by their mothers.
    Alex stood up. Jon looked up at him. What should she do when he left her? Pretend to watch cricket? It had always bored her unless she knew the players personally, and then everything was different.
    But Alex spoke to her. ‘I want to talk to you alone, Jon, so let’s go to the car where we can’t be disturbed.’
    â€˜But . . .’ Jon hesitated, ‘I can’t just leave Mum.’
    He smiled. ‘She’s in good hands and we