was because he was always in trouble at Grey Primary.”
“Grey’s the school in the village, isn’t it?”
Harry nodded.
“My folks couldn’t decide which school to send me to, but finally decided on St Barnabas.” Brian stopped and looked at Harry. “I just wanted to go to the school where the cricket is the best.”
“The Grey side is very good. Martin’s dad is the headmaster there and coaches the under 13 side – rugby and cricket. He’s also very strict.”
“I guess it’s not easy to have a dad who’s a headmaster and who coaches you.”
Harry looked sideways at Brian. “Martin was also the captain of the cricket team at Grey.”
That explains a bit, thought Brian. “Harry, what was Martin talking about – something about a swim?”
“Oh, it’s a bit of a stupid dare thing really. It’s a sort of tradition, I suppose. The Saints guys have a kind of exclusive club …”
“What, a swimming club?”
“No, it’s a sort of test. There’s a big lake just outside town and if one can swim across on one’s own from one side to the other, then one is part of the club. It’s far though, more than a kilometre, and there are eels and all that in the water. I watched a guys skiing there one day last year and he came up out of the water with an eel wrapped around his leg.” Harry shuddered.
“I bet the eel got a bigger fright than the guy did!”
“Are you a good swimmer, Brian?”
“Not too bad. I swam for my prep school and we did more than a kilometre a day in training.”
“But that’s in a pool. The lake’s different. The water looks black and horrible.”
“Who has done this swim?”
“Only a few really.” He rattled some names off. “Those are the older guys. Amongst the juniors only Martin and Fizz have done it. They are our best swimmers. Both of them were picked for the Midlands team last term.
At the gate Brian asked, “Can you come home with me for a bit? We’ve bought that farm just near the school.”
Harry nodded. “I know the place. We all heard about the whizz cricketer from Durban long before you arrived. Everyone has.”
Brian remembered the article that had been in the local paper.
Prominent lawyer to join local firm
Paul Lawson, well-known Durban barrister, is to join local law firm Johns and Nelson in the new year. He and his wife Jane have a daughter, Carol, who is studying law in London, and a son, Brian, who captained the KwaZulu-Natal Colts Cricket team that won the recent South African U13 Cup. They are to settle on the farm Pinewood.
“Okay,” said Harry. “ As long as I’m not too late.”
They had a coke and a piece of cake that Brian’s mom had made and kicked a soccer ball about, then threw the cricket ball to each other.
Brian showed Harry how Spike, his little dog, fielded. “I bowl at the stumps and he brings the ball back.”
Harry watched Spike trotting back with the ball in his mouth. “He’s so small. He can just about get the ball in his mouth. How old is he?”
Brian shrugged. “I suppose he’s about a year and a half. We found him in a hole in a tree trunk near our house when he was still a baby. Someone abandoned him, I guess. We had to feed him on milk from a dropper for a while.” He held up his hand. “Don’t ask what breed he is! Dad says he looks like a cross between a Scottie and a Maltese Poodle! More Scottie than anything, if you ask me. I just wish he could bowl to me.”
“I’ll bowl to you,” Harry said, much to Brian’s surprise, and took the ball.
It’s amazing just how well Harry bowls, Brian thought. He’s got a good, even-paced run up, a high arm action and he works up a good speed.
“I thought you didn’t play any sport.” Brian had just managed to keep the ball from clattering into the drum they had put up in place of proper stumps.
“Well, I don’t … because of this.” Harry half-lifted his bad arm. “No one says anything but everyone thinks I can’t.”
“But you bowl okay – more than okay!”
“Can’t hold the bat firmly enough though, so I’ll never really be able to play a proper game.” He looked at Brian as though wondering whether or not to confide in him. “I’m having an operation on my arm at the end of the year. They are going to try a tendon transplant and then build up the muscle with physiotherapy.” He sighed. “That should give me some use of my hand. So … I’ve been doing a bit of practising. I know the other guys think I don’t like sport but that’s not true. I’d like to be able to play cricket at least.” He paused. “Also … it might not work.”
Had the doctors told him that or was he just looking on the gloomy side of things? Brian wondered, – and how had his arm come to be like that in the first place? He didn’t think he should ask.
“It happened when I was born,” said Harry, as though reading his mind. “Damaged the nerves or something.”
He sounds pretty bitter, Brian thought. How would I feel if I couldn’t play cricket? My only real heroes are Jonty Rhodes and Steve Waugh. They are tough, mentally tough. He’d seen both men bat with injuries and neither of them ever showed any signs of feeling pain – which means, if I want to be any good I’m going to have to forget about cracked or broken ribs.
“Come and see the new additions to the farm,” said Brian, shrugging the unpleasant thoughts away. He led the way to the hen house, where about a dozen tiny chicks ran about in a small enclosure, foraging for food.
“Dad wants his own fresh eggs,” Brian laughed. “My mom says they’ll cost double what they cost in the shops.”
“It must be great living on a farm,” Harry said. “I live in town and the yard’s really small. I wish I could have a dog like Spike!”
Brian hadn’t really thought about it. In Durban they’d had quite a big garden but he’d never had much free time anyway. After school there had been swimming or rugby or tennis. But best of all, in summer there had been cricket.
It was time for Harry to go. “I’ll come a little way with you. Spike can come too.” He lifted Spike up onto the wooden carrier that sat snugly behind his saddle.
“Won’t he fall out?” Harry asked.
“Not a chance; he’s been riding with me since he was a tiny puppy.”
Harry grinned and punched Brian lightly on the arm. “Why don’t we use him as our mascot? Some of the teams in the mini league had stuffed toys. Why can’t we have a real dog?”
“You mean take him with us to matches? I suppose we could – he’s used to going all over the place
