than me. “This is my godson, Haldus Poladion.”
“Hal, please.” The guy takes my hand and gives it a triple shake, looking into my eyes all the while. “All my friends call me Hal,” he says with a cheeky smile.
He’s gorgeous. A strong nose, square jaw, large black eyes, and skin like burnt butter. All the boys I’ve ever known have worn the same clothes as me – the off-white tunic and pants. Even Leonid wears a grey version of it. But Haldus is wearing a flowing crimson robe and pants, and he looks like a king.
“I am here on behalf of my father,” Hal says. His grin is gone, and he’s looking me in the eye. “He would like me to extend his sincere apologies to you for the unfortunate incident in the colony. Had he known who you were, he would have elevated you far sooner. He hopes you can forgive him and the Council.” And he smiles again. “Friends?”
For a moment I pause. He’s calling almost murdering me an “unfortunate incident”? But Hal is so cute with his dimples and the mischievous twinkle in his eye, that I can’t resist. “Of course,” I say. “Apology accepted.”
“All good, all good,” Mr Frye beams. He snaps his fingers. “Leonid, don’t just stand there. Fetch some tea.”
Leonid hurries to the kitchen and Mr Frye turns his electric grin to me. “Let’s go into the sitting room and have a chat.”
His hand on my back guides me through the door.
“Have a seat, Ebba,” Mr Frye says, gesturing to a deep sofa. I sink into it, and he and Hal sit opposite in armchairs. The walls are lined with paintings and I keep staring at one on the far wall. Something about it is so familiar.
Leonid comes in and puts a tray on the low table.
“We have a lot to discuss,” Mr Frye says, ignoring him. He pours the tea and passes me a cup.
Hal is so … so … then I think of the word: polished. Everything about him gleams – his teeth, his eyes, his nails, even his skin. I feel rough next to him. Mr Frye is talking about investments, developments, making the best use of my windfall, relinquishing the burden and adopting a new lifestyle, about doing what’s best not just for me but for the settlement as a whole, etcetera, etcetera, but I stop listening. It’s all too complicated. My eye falls again on one of the paintings on the far wall. It reminds me of something, but I can’t think what.
Suddenly I see what the picture represents. It’s the forest – the forest where I walk in my recurring dream.
“Who painted that?” I blurt out.
“Try to follow, Ebba,” Mr Frye says. “This is important.” Then he smiles benignly. “I suppose this information is overwhelming for you. You’re so young, and you’re a girl. Much better to leave it all to me. The picture – yes, that is one of your great-aunt’s works. She was a famous painter, before the Purification.”
My great-aunt? How on earth did she paint what’s in my dream?
He talks on about art and investments and income and how he will look after my money for me, and pay the servants’ wages, and anything I want, I just have to ask him. I’m half listening, trying to work out what’s going on.
“You can’t live here alone,” he says, “with nothing to do all day. We’ll have to sort something out for you. Hopefully it won’t be long before you can move to a settlement, nearer to the rest of the citizens. You could move to Newlands settlement, or even Woodstock or Vredehoek would be fine. This farm is so far away from everything, you’ll be lonely here with no neighbours. It was alright for an old lady, but you’re a young girl with your whole life open before you, and you’ll want to go to parties and entertainments and mix with young people your own age, and maybe the High Priest will select a husband for you …”
I’m transfixed by the painting. It’s my dream exactly – the forest, the path where my mother disappears.
“I hope you’ll be alright here with Leonid for a day or two. I’ve warned him that if he so much as lays a finger on you …” He sees the alarm in my face. “Don’t worry about it, my dear. He wouldn’t dare, but you never know with these rough boat-people. Perhaps I should send over a maid or two from my house to cook and clean for you until Aunty Figgy gets back. Leonid looks after the kitchen garden and the maintenance on the house. He’ll also drive you anywhere you want to go.”
“Drive me? I can go anywhere I want?”
He and Hal laugh as though I’ve said something really amusing. “You don’t seem to understand, my dear. You’re an heiress. Of course Miss den Eeden had a buggy. And yes, you can go anywhere you want. You’re a citizen now.”
He snaps open his briefcase and takes out a sheaf of papers. He puts the papers on the table and takes a pen and a bottle of ink out of his case. “I’m going to need your signature on these, please.”
“Um …” I begin. I have to tell him I can’t write, but it’s so embarrassing, especially in front of Hal.
Leonid knocks on the door. He’s come to clear away the tea tray. Mr Frye barely acknowledges him.
I feel awkward being waited on. “Thank you, Leonid,” I say, clearing my throat.
He grunts.
“Hurry up, boy,” Mr Frye snaps. “Miss den Eeden is waiting.”
Leonid jumps. Hal gives a little snort of amusement.
I lean forward to put my cup on his tray. My hand knocks the milk jug and it tips over. I try to pick it up, but I bump the tray with my elbow. Leonid tries to save it, and next thing the tray is upside down on the table and there is tea everywhere.
“You idiot!” Mr Frye yells, grabbing his documents and shaking them. “Do you know how long it took for my scribe to write these out? They’re soaked.”
Leonid is glowering at me. “Sorry, Mr Frye, sir. It was an accident.”
“Get out of my sight,” he shouts. “I swear to Prospiroh, Leonid, now the old girl’s gone, there’s no reason to keep you on here.”
Leonid glares at me, piles the crockery on the tray and leaves.
Mr Frye shakes the liquid off his papers and then shoves them into his bag. “I’ll have to come back. Idiot,” he mutters, getting up. “You need better staff. I’ll look for someone else. My butler will know someone, don’t worry. I’ll come back tomorrow and tell them both to be out by the end of the day. Let’s make a fresh start with new staff.” He pats my shoulder. “But now I have to run.”
Hal pauses as Mr Frye scuttles across the driveway to the horses. “Shall I come and visit again?” he asks, giving me a hug. “You must be missing your old friends.”
I’m not used to being hugged. Physical contact was discouraged in the colony. But I love hugging him. He feels so strong and his kindness brings a lump to my throat. My eyes fill with tears but I force them back. I can’t cry in front of him. He’ll think I’m pathetic.
“I’d like that,” I say. I wish he could stay now. I don’t want to be alone in the house with Leonid. It was my fault the milk
