Cry, the Beloved Country - Alan Paton by Alan Paton

Author:Alan Paton
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf, azw3
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2018-03-08T06:00:00+00:00

19

A YOUNG MAN met them at the airport.

–Mr. and Mrs. Jarvis?

–Yes.

–I’m John Harrison, Mary’s brother. I don’t think you remember me. I was only a youngster when you saw me last. Let me carry your things. I’ve a car here for you.

As they walked to the control building, the young man said, I needn’t tell you how grieved we are, Mr. Jarvis. Arthur was the finest man I ever knew.

In the car he spoke to them again. Mary and the children are at my mother’s, and we’re expecting you both to stay with us.

–How is Mary?

–She’s suffering from the shock, Mr. Jarvis, but she’s very brave.

–And the children?

–They’ve taken it very badly, Mr. Jarvis. And that has given Mary something to occupy herself. They did not speak again. Jarvis held his wife’s hand, but they all were silent with their own thoughts, until they drove through the gates of a suburban house, and came to a stop before a lighted porch. A young woman came out at the sound of the car, and embraced Mrs. Jarvis, and they wept together. Then she turned to Jarvis, and they embraced each other. This first meeting over, Mr. and Mrs. Harrison came out also, and after they had welcomed one another, and after the proper words had been spoken, they all went into the house.

Harrison turned to Jarvis. Would you like a drink? he asked.

–It would be welcome.

–Come to my study, then. –And now, said Harrison, you must do as you wish. If there’s anything we can do, you’ve only to ask us. If you would wish to go to the mortuary at once, John will go with you. Or you can go tomorrow morning if you wish. The police would like to see you, but they won’t worry you tonight.

–I’ll ask my wife, Harrison. You know, we’ve hardly spoken of it yet. I’ll go to her, don’t you worry to come.

–I’ll wait for you here. He found his wife and his daughter-in-law hand in hand, tip-toeing out of the room where his grandchildren were sleeping. He spoke to her, and she wept again and sobbed against him. Now, she said. He went back to Harrison, and swallowed his drink, and then he and his wife and their daughter-in-law went out to the car, where John Harrison was waiting for them.

While they were driving to the Police Laboratories, John Harrison told Jarvis all that he knew about the crime, how the police were waiting for the house-boy to recover consciousness, and how they had combed the plantations on Parkwold Ridge. And he told him too of the paper that Arthur Jarvis had been writing just before he was killed, on “The Truth About Native Crime.”

–I’d like to see it, said Jarvis.

–We’ll get it for you tomorrow, Mr. Jarvis.

–My son and I didn’t see eye to eye on the native question, John. In fact, he and I got quite heated about it on more than one occasion. But I’d like to see what he wrote.

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