The child suddenly stopped playing and lifted her head. Hannah, stripping mealies on the stoep, saw her daughter stare across the yard into the bushveld that encroached on the house.


'Mommy, Mommy, Sheena's coming,' Jilly called and ran out from the shade of the umbrella thorn tree into the blaze of midday.

Before Hannah could rise and close her apron over the mealies to prevent them falling, Jilly was at the low stone wall enclosing the yard. She pointed into the bush, then turned to her mother hesitating on the stoep.

'There, there,' she shouted and clambered over the wall.

Hannah began running towards her daughter, heedless of the mealies tumbling from her apron. She leapt over the wall and, as her bare feet touched the dry hot earth on the other side, she looked up and saw the dog coming slowly nearer, every now and then turning it's head to look back into the bush.

'Sheena, Sheena, come here, girl,' called Jilly and rushed headlong towards her dog.

'Be careful,' shouted Hannah, disturbed by Sheena's tangled, dirty coat and slow gait.

But Jilly was already bending over her.

'Let's go to the house with her,' said Hannah. 'She must be thirsty.'

'Come, Sheena, come,' coaxed Jilly. But the dog did not move.

'Stay here with her, then. I'll fetch water.''

Hannah returned with a bowl. Sheena lapped for a long time, then raised her dripping snout.

'Look, Mommy, her eyes are funny. '

Hannah looked at Sheena. Her eyes were glazed and she showed no interest in their attention. 'Perhaps she just needs a good long rest.'

'Where has she been, Mommy?'

'Goodness knows, love.'

Jilly patted and stroked Sheena for a while until the dog abruptly turned her back on them. Despite Jilly and Hannah's calling and coaxing, she walked off into the dense thorn trees and disappeared.

'Oh, Mommy, she's gone again,' cried Jilly.

Hannah knelt down and put her arms around the child, who struggled to run after the dog. 'Hush, love, hush there. We can't make her stay if she wants to go.'

'I wonder if she's chasing snakes?' said Donald. 'Sometimes dogs get hooked on chasing the damn things, stay out in the bush for weeks on end.'

'Can you take some of the workers and try and find her?' asked Hannah.

'Damn, Hannah, it's almost impossible to find lost cattle in the bush, let alone a collie dog. '

Hannah got up from the supper table. She stood at the back door and looked out into the dark. Night had fallen quickly, blotting out the bushveld and familiar shapes around the house. Wind moved through the yard, creaking the windmill into motion. Hannah thought of the water in the borehole, deep under the ground. How, unable to resist the thrust of the pump, it would be forced to spill out onto the surface.

'You're not thinking of taking Sheena with you, are you?' asked Donald.

Hannah jerked the screen door open and went onto the veranda. 'Yes. Jilly wants to.'

Donald followed her and caught the door before it banged into the frame. 'Darling, don't go. Stay.'

The wind lifted the edge of Hannah's thin summer dress and she put her hands on her thighs to hold it down 'Don't let's start talking about it all over again.'

'Is it me?'

Hannah shook her head. A night bird cried and was answered by another in a high sound that ran over her skin like a wail. She shivered.

'If you could only tell me why.'

'There is no why. I've told you that before.'

'Is it the farm? I know it's miles from town and life's tough and isolated for you.'

'It's not that, Donald. It's not the farm or the isolation or you. It's me. Just me.'

Donald took a step towards Hannah. 'Are you aware of what this will do to Jilly?'

'Yes.'

'And you're still determined to uproot her?

'Donald, you know that when she turns seven and becomes a weekly boarder at school in town , she will have to leave the farm anyway. She'd only come home on weekends. This way, she's leaving the farm sooner than planned but won't need to board at school. '
'And you think it's okay, to satisfy your whims, for her to live in town a year earlier than we had planned? And in your mother's house that has a garden the size of a handerkerchief, no trees and absolutely no place for Sheena?'
Hannah turned to face Donald and folded her arms across her chest. 'Yes', she said. 'Yes, yes, yes.'

The next morning, Hannah watched Donald hoist Jilly into the front seat of the truck and close the door. He came over to the stoep where she stood in the shine and freshness of daybreak.

'Let's hope we find her. We're dipping cattle in the afternoon so this morning is all the time we've got.'

The truck moved out of the yard and Hannah, left standing in the dust, suddenly longed for rain. Rain that she could go out into with her arms stretched wide, rain that would splay over her, run off her hair in long ribbons of wetness, down her clothes and body. Unravel the knots in her, unstifle her. She went over to the umbrella thorn and put her arms around it, feeling the scabrous bark press into her bare arms. She looked up at its spread of branches, its leaves softly lustred by the morning light. Jilly had played here nearly every day for six years. From the veranda or the kitchen window, Hannah had looked out to see her sitting in the shade, Sheena at her side. Had the dog run away because she had sensed what was to come? No, thought Hannah. Sheena had disappeared into the bush once before. This time, however, she had been away far longer. Perhaps, thought Hannah in panic, her leaving them yesterday meant she had decided to remain in the bush and she had only come to say goodbye.

Later Hannah was peeling vegetables for lunch when she heard the truck drive into the yard. She went outside and watched Jilly clamber down from the passenger seat. Donald looked at Hannah and shook his head. Sadness flamed up in her and she went quickly down the steps and held out her arms.

'We didn't find her, Mommy. We looked and looked everywhere.'
Hannah held Jilly and stroked her hair. The child lifted her head and Hannah saw the lines on her small face where tears had streaked through the dust.

A month later Hannah was packing boxes when Donald walked into the bedroom.

'You're back early,' she said.

'Where's Jilly?'

'Jilly? In her room. It's too hot to play outside and I said it would be a good idea to sort through the toys and books she wants ... to take with to her Grandmother's.'

Donald sat down on the bed. His boots were dusty and burrs stuck on to his socks. His shin was bloodied - he had been inspecting the barbed-wire fences on the farm and it was rough work. He removed his hat, turned it round and round in his hands and then threw it on to the bedspread.

'Donald, what is it?'

'We've looked out for Sheena for weeks now, in every bloody corner of the farm we've worked in and there's no sign of her.'

Hannah let an armful of clothing fall to the floor. 'I was so counting on her to ... help ea
se Jilly into the move.'
'Don't go, darling. Stay with me.'

Hannah's face grew hot and tears rushed down her cheeks. The bed creaked and then Donald knelt on the floor beside her and put his arms around her shuddering body. She sobbed soundlessly, her mouth on his chest, his smell of dust and sweat filling her nostrils. She felt his hands moving gently over the back of her head and heard his gentle murmuring as he rocked her in his arms.

'Why is Mommy crying?'

Hannah looked up and saw Jilly standing in the bedroom doorway.

'Come here, girlie,' said Donald and held out his arm to Jilly. He tightened the other around Hannah. Jilly's dark hair burnished in a shaft of sunlight as she moved towards them. Then her little body was in the circle of Donald's arms too, her doll crushed into Hannah's chest.

Jilly looked at her mother. 'Are you sad, Mommy?'

Hannah took Jilly's hand. 'Yes, love, Mommy's sad.'

Jilly stroked her mother's cheek. 'Don't be, Mommy. Daddy said Sheena has something she must do out in the Bush. And he said even if it makes us sad, we have to let her go.'

Hannah looked at her child, surprised by the matter-of-factness of her tone. Although she had heard Jilly talking to the absent dog in her games under the umbrella thorn, Hannah had not realised that she had accepted Sheena's absence so completely. It was she, Hannah, who even now, repeatedly looked out of the kitchen window to see if the dog had returned. She who kept a full bowl of water at the door and checked for a sign of her before going to bed.

Donald pushed back the wet hair from Hannah's face. 'Seeing I'm home already, ladies,' he said, 'I'll go put the truck in the garage and grab a shower. Then perhaps we can have an early supper.'

Jilly stood up. 'Can we have pudding tonight, Mommy?'

'Yes, love, if you like.'

'Can I go and choose which one?'

Hannah nodded and Jilly left the room. Donald stood up and pulled Hannah to her feet.

'Donald, what else did you say to Jilly that day you two went looking for Sheena?'

Donald picked up his hat from the bed. 'That we would be waiting for Sheena if she ever decided to come back. Even if it takes forever.'

Hannah took the hat from Donald hands. She placed it on his head and touched her fingers to his cheek. 'Thank you,' she said softly. Then she picked up the armful of fallen clothing and continued packing.

---

Return to CONTENTS