I want those dresses finished by tomorrow evening.

Can you- do it? They'll be ready, Mr Courtney, even if my girls have to

work all night on them. He took Katrina back to the wagons and laid her

on her cot. Please forgive me, Sean, I've never done that in my life

beforeIt's all right, my fancy, I understand. Now you just go to sleep

The following day Katrina stayed at the camp resting, while Sean went to

see Mr Goldberg again and buy from him the stores they would need for

the next expedition. it took another day to load the wagons and by then

Katrina seemed well enough to make the trip to Johannesburg.

They left in the early afternoon. Mbejane driving, Sean and Katrina

sitting close together on the back seat holding hands under the

travelling rug and Dirk bouncing round the interior of the carriage,

pausing now and then to flatten his face against a window and keeping up

a flow of comment in the peculiar mixture of English, Dutch and Zulu

that Sean called Dirkese. They reached Johannesburg long before Sean

-expected to. In four years the town had doubled its size and had

spread out into the veld to meet them. They followed the main road

through the new areas and came to the centre. There were changes here

as well but it was, in the main, the way he remembered it.

They threaded their way through the babble of Eloff Street, and around

them, millOwing with the crowds on the sidewalks, were the ghosts of the

past. He heard Duff laugh and twisted quickly in his seat to place the

sound; a dandy in a boater hat with gold fillings in his teeth laughed

again from a passing carriage and Sean heard that it was not Duff's

laugh. Very close, but not the same. All of it was like that, similar

but subtly changed, nostalgic but sad with the knowledge of loss. The

past was lost and he knew then that you can never go back. Nothing is

the same, for reality can exist at one time only and in one place only.

Then it dies and you have lost it and you must go on to find it at

another time and in another place.

They took a suite at the Grand National, with a sittingroom and two

bedrooms, a private bathroom and a balcony that looked out over the

street, over the rooftops to where the headgears and white dumps stood

along the ridge. Katrina was exhausted. They had supper sent up to the

room early and when they had eaten Katrina went to bed and Sean went

down alone to drink a nightcap at the bar. The bar-room was crowded.

Sean found a seat in the corner and sat silently in the jabber of

conversation. In it, but no longer a part of it.

They had changed the picture above the bar, it used to be a hunting

print; but now it was a red-coated general, impressively splattered with

blood, taking leave of his staff in the middle of a battlefield. The

staff looked bored.

Sean let his eyes wander on along the dark panelled walls.

He remembered, there was so much to remember! Suddenly he blinked.

Near the side door was a star-shaped crack in the wooden panelling. Sean

started to grin and put down his glass and massaged the knuckles of his

right hand. If Oakie Henderson hadn't ducked under that punch it would

have taken his head off.

Sean signalled to the barman. Another brandy, please. While the man

was pouring Sean asked, What happened to that panel near the door? The

man glanced up and then back at the bottle. Some fellow put his fist

through it in the old days. Boss left it like that, sort of souvenir,

you know. He must have been quite a fellow . . . that wood's an inch

thick. Who was he! Sean asked expectantly.

The man shrugged. One of the drifters. They come and they go. Make a

few pounds, piss it against the wall and then go back where they came

from. He looked at Sean with bored eyes. That'll be half a dollar,

mate. Sean drank the brandy slowly, turning the glass in his hands

between sips and watching the liquor cling to its sides like thin oil.

By a cracked panel in a bar-room they shall remember you.

And now I shall go to bed, he decided, this is no longer my world. My

world is upstairs sleeping, I hope! He smiled a little to himself and

finished the brandy in his glass.

Sean? a voice at his ear and a hand on his shoulder as be turned to

leave. My God, Sean, is it really you?

Sean stared at the man beside him. He did not recognize the neatly

clipped beard and the big sun-burned nose with the skin peeling off the

tip, but suddenly he knew the eyes.

Dennis, you old rogue. Dennis Petersen from Lady-burg.

That's right isn't it? You didn't recognize me! laughed Dennis. So

much for our friendship, you disappear without a word and ten years

later you don't even know me!

Now they were both laughing. I thought they would have hanged you long

ago. Sean defended himself. What on earth are you doing in

Johannesburg? Selling beef, I'm on the committee of the Beef Growers

Association.

There was pride in Dennis's voice. I have been up here negotiating the

renewal of our contracts. When are you going back? My train leaves in

an hour. Well, there's time for a drink before you go, what will it be?

I'll have a small brandy, thanks Sean ordered the drinks and they took

them up and stood, suddenly awkward in the awareness that ten years were

between their once complete accord. so, what have you been doing with

yourself? Dennis ended the pause. This and that, you know, a bit of

mining, just come back from the bushveld. Nothing very exciting. Well,

it's good to see you again anyway. Your health. And yours, said Sean,

and then suddenly he realized that here was news of his family, news he

had been without for many years. How's everyone at Lady-burg, your

sisters? Both married, so am I with four sons, and the pride was in

Dennis's voice again.

Anyone I know? asked Sean. Audrey, you know old Pye's daughter. No!

Sean ripped out the word, and then quickly, That's wonderful, Dennis.

I'm pleased for you, she was a lovely girl. The best, agreed Dennis

complacently. He had the sleek well-fed, well-cared for look of a

married mann, fatter in the face and his stomach starting to show. I

wonder if I have it yet, Sean thought. Of course, old man Pye's dead

now, that's one creditor he couldn't buy off. Ronnie's taken over the

bank and the store. The bat-eared bush rat, said Sean and knew

immediately that he had said the wrong thing. Dennis frowned slightly.

He's family now, Sean. A very decent chap really - and a clever

business man. I'm sorry, I was joking. How's my mother? Sean changed

the subject by asking the question that had been in the forefront of his

mind and he had picked the right topic. Dennis's expression softened

immediately, you could see the warmth in his eyes. The same as ever.

She's got a dress shop now, next door to Ronnie's store. It's a gold

mine, no one would think of buying anywhere else but at Aunt Ada's.

She's godmother to my two eldest, I guess she's godmother to half the

kids in the districts and then his expression hardened again, The least

you could have done was write to her sometime, Sean. You can't imagine

the pain you have caused her. There were circumstances. Sean dropped

his eyes to his glass.

That's no excuse, you have a duty which you neglected. There is no

excuse for it. You little man Sean lifted his head and looked at him

without trying to disguise his annoyance. You pompous, preaching little

man peering out at the world one-eyed through the keyhole of your own

self-importance. Dennis had not noticed Sean's reaction and he

continued. That's a lesson a men must learn before he grows up, we all

have our responsibilities and our duties. A man grows up when he faces

those duties, when he accepts the burdens that society places on him.

Take my own case: despite the vast amount of work I have on the farms, I

now own Mahobals Kloof as well, and despite the demands made on me by my

family, yet I have time to represent the district on the committee of

the Beef Growers Association, I am a member of the Church Council and

the village management board, and I have every reason to believe that

next month I will be asked to accept the office of mayor. Then he

looked steadily at Sean, What have you done with your life so far? I've

lived it, Sean answered, and Dennis looked a little perplexed, then he

gathered himself. Are you married yet? I was, but I sold her to the

Arab slavers up north. You did whatV Well, I grinned Sean, she was an

old wife and the price was good! that's a joke, hey? Ha, ha! You

couldn't fool good old Dennis, Sean laughed out loud. This unbelievable

little man!

Have a drink, Dennis, he suggested. Two is my limit, thanks Sean.

Dennis pulled the goldhunter from his waistcoat pocket and inspected it.

Time to 90, I'm afraid. Nice seeing you again-Wait, Sean stopped him.

My brother, how's Garry? Poor old Garry. Dennis shook his head

solemnly.

What's wrong with him? Sean's voice was sharp with his sense of dread.

Nothing, Dennis reassured him quickly. well, I mean nothing more than

ever was. Why did you say "poor old Garry" then? I don't really know,

except that everybody says it. It's habit, I suppose, he's just one of

those people you say poor old in front of. Sean suppressed his