Open Writing

The atmosphere in the Penny Whistle coffee shop was perfect for an intimate girls' chat. Ingrid leaned forward expectantly. "Forget the waitress, Beth," she said. "Tell me about your meetings with Brian. Did you make another appointment at his surgery?"

"No!" Beth laughed. "I would have if Barney had kept us on medical aid, but at those sorts of prices …" Again she chuckled. "Don't look so disapproving, Ingrid! I'm not that desperate! At least, not so desperate that I'll pay to get a man's attention!"

Ingrid let her eyebrows express her scepticism. "I'm glad to hear it. So, where did you see him?"

Beth tugged at her ear self-consciously. "Actually, I did a bit of research through Olivia Frampton at church last Sunday. She told me that Brian isn't married … never has been. She also let slip that he's a member of their wine club. So I got myself invited and went along on Wednesday night."

Astonished, Ingrid exclaimed, "You didn't!"

Beth's blue eyes sparkled. "Really, Ingrid, I did. Oh, I went easy on the wine, of course. Me and alcohol don't go together very well. I drank water mostly, and concentrated on joining in the conversation. It was really nice."

A wine evening! Ingrid was amazed. "Where was it held?"

"At Olivia and Ken's house," said Beth, smiling. "They have a beautiful lapa overlooking the pool. We sat outside, and the food was divine! Oysters to start with, then roast beef and Yorkshire pud, followed by fresh mango slices and thick Greek yoghurt for dessert. Of course," she added, "Olivia's maid did all the cooking. I don't think Olivia knows how to boil an egg!"

Ingrid toyed with her scarf. She wondered how she would have coped in the same situation. She knew nothing about wine, let alone how to eat an oyster. Didn't one have to toss it to the back of one's throat and swallow it whole? Trying not to show her ignorance, she asked carefully, "What kind of things did they talk about … at this wine evening?"

As Beth prepared to tell her, the dumpy waitress with the enormous brown eyes approached them. Ingrid watched her friend nervously as the woman offloaded their iced coffees from the tray and manoeuvred them clumsily across the table. To her relief, though, Beth was too busy relishing the memory of the wine evening to notice. She picked up the long spoon that lay beside the tall frosted glass on the saucer and stirred thoughtfully.

"Well," she began, "most of the members of the wine club are professional people, you know. Besides Brian and Ken, there was also the lawyer Sam Golding and his wife Elizabeth. They'd just come back from a trip to Singapore, so we heard all about that. Then there was a new couple from Cape Town called Geoff and Nina Grove …" She waggled her spoon in the air. "I believe he's due to take over as headmaster at the High School next year."

"What?"" Ingrid put down her glass incredulously. "I didn't know there's going to be a new headmaster!" The present headmaster, Mr Barnes, had come to the high school the year Ingrid had done her term of practical teaching. That had been back in 1990. Even as she registered the date in her mind, the realisation of how long ago it was shocked her. And she hadn't even used her teaching diploma after graduating because she'd married Warren two months after coming out of College.

Beth blinked. "Oh, come on, Ingrid! Old Patrick Barnes is well past his sell-by date. They would have got a new headmaster last year already, except that no one wants to come to a school in the middle of nowhere."

That was a common enough excuse. Few people in Johannesburg, Cape Town and Durban had ever heard of their community. Ingrid herself had been flummoxed when the town's name had appeared on her letter of temporary appointment. However, on arriving in the May of that year and finding that her accommodation comprised a neat thatched cottage in the garden of the vice-principal, she had quickly appreciated how lucky she was. Rosalie's appointment had been to an inner-city school, in a neighbourhood where pavement muggings seemed to be the order of the day. The poor girl had been forced to stay locked up in her quarters each evening for fear of being raped. In contrast, Ingrid had gone cycling every afternoon in the pine plantations with a group of teachers, and the children in her class had treated her with respect verging on hero worship.

People who spoke of the town as a dump didn't know what they were talking about. Admittedly, to anyone driving through on the way to the casino or the coast, it had little to distinguish it from any other country town, with its domineering Dutch Reformed Church, ramshackle shops and dusty taxi rank. But beyond the central business district, on the farms and estates which sprawled on every side, could be found some of the most beautiful houses and gardens in the province. A few of these, like Steelesbury, made their presence known and were admired by visitors. The vast majority of them prized their near isolation and used it to preserve the last vestiges of a colonial lifestyle in a fast changing country. They tended to send their children away to boarding school rather than have them educate locally, and even had their own churches - picturesque stone buildings set upon windswept hills. Yet they came into town regularly, driving their polished German cars, and could sometimes be seen eating lunch at the Woodcutter's Arms or purchasing medicine at Muller's Pharmacy.

Turning her attention back to Beth, Ingrid asked, "do you think this new guy will be any good? Caroline is due to go to High School the year after next."

"Oh, for sure," Beth answered distractedly. It was clear by the way she gazed up at the lantern above their heads that she didn't want to pursue the subject of school.

"Tell me what you and Brian spoke about, then," urged Ingrid, curious in spite of herself.

She may be jealous of her pretty friend for having a kind and responsible man in her life, but it didn't mean she had to shut her ears to stories relating to their romance. As Beth's main confidant and the mother of her daughter's best friend, she had a right to know. And more than that. She had a duty to check that her friend's heart was not about to be broken by a man - as hers had been.

**

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