Chapter 2: Curious Folk

‘‘My dear Miriam, what a pleasure it is, how very long it has been!’’ exclaimed Nomthunzi Mbovane, sweeping into the lounge. Miriam had barely the time to rise and greet the exuberant woman before Nomthunzi bore down upon the other occupant of the room. ‘‘And Lizi, my goodness, you’re a woman grown now! The last time I saw you, you were still in your short-skirts. My, but your home is such a treasure, so quaint and utterly cozy, is it not, Edward?’’ She had during this time shed her outer garments, piling them haphazardly into poor Miriam’s waiting arms. Her hat ribbons quivered underneath her generous chin as she briskly untied them, revealing elaborately set curls at either side of her cheeks. She casually gestured at her surroundings, decorated in a modest and unassuming manner, before turning to glance at the man who had followed her into the room. He was a slender fellow, with keen, slanted eyes and a long, crooked nose- a man that gave the impression that nothing escaped his notice. His dark hair curled against his high forehead in a cavalier fashion, as if he had just arrived swept from the vale on a proud steed. In his hand was a smooth, oblong case, about the length of a small, wooden stool, which he deftly propped against the bookcase.      

‘‘I do hope you’ll excuse my Aunt’s lack of propriety- she can be overbearing to the point-’’

‘‘Oh, hush, child! Hush!’’ exclaimed Nomthunzi, turning to face Miriam. ‘‘My, but he has quite the unpleasant habit of impertinence, does he not! So unscrupulous with his words.’’

‘‘On the contrary, Madam; they are exactly the words I meant.’’ rejoined Edward, shuffling forward to kiss Miriam’s outstretched hand before introducing himself, as he saw fit. ‘‘Mrs Matiwane, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Edward Nkosekhaya Skweyiya. This lovely matron, God bless her heart, is my Aunt.’’ 

With a huff and a puff, Nomthunzi brushed past Edward and planted herself upon the couch, aging springs be damned.

‘‘Oh!’’ exclaimed Miriam, chortling prettily. ‘‘Oh, but do sit down. Tenza, it has not been as long as all that! It’s hardly been a month since when we last met, my dear; but it is true you have not seen our Lizi in a great many years. Mr Skweyiya, it is a pleasure to meet you; this is my daughter, Liziwe.’’

Edward nodded at Liziwe austerely, his eyes flicking over her form- from her eyes, to nose, to lips and hands and toes- before he seated himself prudently. She blushed at the careful attention of his scrutinising gaze, and looked determinedly away from him- though she could feel his eyes upon her still. The tea service was already laid, and Miriam gestured at the pot. ‘‘Will you take tea?’’ she enquired.

‘‘Is it green tea?’’ enquired Nomthunzi, distractedly adjusting the linen adorning the cloth of her heavy bosom.

‘‘No, I am afraid it is brown.’’ replied Miriam, with just the slightest hint of acerbity colouring her words. But Nomthunzi was not one to make notice of such small details, and only pushed herself deeper into the couch.

‘‘Oh, no, then; I cannot bear the stuff. Green tea possesses the most elegant and delicate of flavours, and I could not do without it! No, not at all. But don’t fret, my dear, I’m quite sure a biscuit or two will do; you do have biscuits, of course?’’

‘‘We do, ma’am,’’ replied Liziwe waspishly, ‘‘I hope shortbread will suffice? We do not possess such a large household staff as you surely do, and have to make do with such creature comforts as we can manage on a Physician’s earnings. Oh, but you already saw the brown tea, so surely you must have surmised as much yourself. Shortbread?’’ She offered the dish to the older woman, with a sweet smile and flashing eyes.

‘‘Oh…well, I never..!’’ blustered Nomthunzi, as Miriam shot a look clearly stating behave, wicked child! in Liziwe’s direction. Liziwe grinned impishly, and could have sworn Mr Skweyiya had smothered a chuckle behind his long-fingered hand.

‘‘Our Liziwe has quite the sharp tongue, you will have to excuse her; she means nothing by it,’’ apologised Miriam.

‘‘Yes, well perhaps she had better test her razor-sharp wit on Edward here, rather than myself! They are closer in age, and probably a better match in a battle of tongues,’’ remarked Nomthunzi.

‘‘I apologise, Aunt Nomthunzi, it was not my place to make such observations,’’ demurred Liziwe, ducking her head and taking a sip of tea. 

‘‘Oh, never mind, child, never mind... did you know, Edward is fresh off the boat from Scotland? Only arrived last night. I’m sure he could do with-’’

‘‘You know,’’ interrupted Edward, standing abruptly, ‘‘I am not in need of tea, or shortbread. A breath of fresh air would do me wonders as this conversation is positively stifling.

Miss Matiwane,’’ and here he turned to face Liziwe, ‘‘I noticed a fresh bit of greenery ‘round the back, would you care to show it to me?’’

‘‘I was just thinking the same thing myself,’’ said Liziwe quietly, rising to follow Edward’s quickly retreating form.

‘‘I think they’ll do quite nicely,’’ said Nomthunzi with satisfaction after a moment’s pause.

‘‘Quite the splendid idea, my friend, well done!’’  her voice trailed off as Edward and his newfound companion made their way towards the garden.

‘‘My Aunt,’’ said Edward, ‘‘is an absurd woman; dull as a brick, I’m afraid, but regrettably the keeper of my endowments.’’

Liziwe smiled at that, but could think of nothing to say in return, and so only paused to be sure he was following her. He could not have been older than thirty, but he carried the demeanour of a man older than his years; not in maturity, but in the scrutiny he gave every object and person around him. His gait was unhurried, but his long limbs brought him next to her with little effort. They ambled in silence for as long as silence could hold, rounding the side of the sheepfold into the small garden that led the way back into the woodland yonder.

‘‘Well,’’ she said presently, ‘‘here it is, the garden. Not much to look at, but the turnips grow unhindered, so I suppose it’s worth something.’’

‘‘And do you dig your own turnips?’’ enquired Edward with a frown. She flouted the question, grimacing at the turn of dialogue and not wanting to draw attention to their situation.

‘‘My Mother fancies herself a matchmaker,’’ she commented lightly, seating herself at the crude, wooden bench. The coolness of the day wrapped itself around her, and she shivered ever so slightly, wishing she had had good sense to bring her shawl. He sat beside her, careful to leave a space between them. The glance he sent her was quick and somewhat anxious, and Liziwe could not help but smile at his ungainliness.

‘‘Mr Skweyiya,’’ she said entreatingly, ‘‘I feel I must tell you frankly that I have no intention to be wed; to you, or to any other man.’’

He whistled out a sigh of relief, and exclaimed, ‘‘But this is excellent news!’’ And at her questioning quirk of an eyebrow, he hurriedly continued, ‘‘I mean to say, that it awfully kind of you to inform me. But make no mistake, Miss Matiwane, I also am in no hurry to be wed as I am already married to my work.’’

‘‘Then we are in agreeance!’’ replied Liziwe, ‘‘that is well; I am glad we did not pander overlong in avoiding the subject, and now can move towards an avenue of friendship. May I ask what the manner of your work is?’’

‘‘Friendship, Miss Matiwane? Well, to be quite frank, I was not aware that any great friendship could ever exist between the sexes,’’ said Edward dismissively.

‘‘You are wrong, sir!’’ cried Liziwe, looking askance at the man beside her. But his expression was that of amusement as he continued,

‘‘You disagree? Pray tell, then, what great friend have you of the male persuasion?’’

‘‘My Father.’’ declared Liziwe. 

‘‘Pah! Fathers don’t count- especially in your case, as it is exceedingly clear that you have him wrapped about your little finger. No,’’ he continued as she opened her mouth to protest, ‘‘I can say with great authority that the sexes have little reason to mix other than the motive of marriage, and therefore of copulation. I, for instance, have but one friend, and he happens to be a he.’’

Liziwe felt her eyebrows disappearing into her hairline at this ludicrous conclusion, and proceeded to rejoin with a cool, ‘‘Well! I must say it is strikingly obvious why you have but one friend, Mr Skweyiya- and I assume he must take part in this covert work of yours!’’

‘‘You are correct: Professor Barland is an indispensable colleague, and on top of that he-’’

‘‘And what is it, exactly, that you and Professor Barland do, then? Clearly it is not university work, as you are not a Professor yourself.’’

‘‘Quite right, Miss Matiwane, quite right: I am a Constable.’’ He said the word with such pomp and precision, that Liziwe could hardly imagine it without capitals. She fought hard to keep the giggle creeping its way up her throat from being heard; but alas, it was not to be. She guffawed openly, her eyes crinkling in mirth at the arrogance of the man. He shot her a glance then, his lips twisting in consternation, and her eyes registering in his the anguish of wounded pride.

‘‘Problem?’’ he enquired succinctly, snipping the end from the word.

‘‘No-o, no, forgive me, Mr Skweyiya- it’s just… you are just so very, so…’’

‘‘What am I?’’ he enquired again, staring down at his boney hands. The sight of him, so suddenly gone from proud bird to wilted lily smote at her heart, and she resolved to be kinder to the poor sod.

‘‘You are proud, Mr Skweyiya, very proud. But perhaps you have reason to be that I am not aware of.’’

‘‘Well,’’ he said, rising to his feet, ‘‘We’ve probably given the old magpies suitable fodder for gossip based on the amount of time we have been conversing; I suggest we go back in, you’re clearly chilled and I do not have anything to offer in the way of warmth.’’

And with these words he proceeded to charge down the garden path without waiting. She smiled, and promptly followed in his wake.

As they again entered the lounge, Edward announced, ‘‘I’ve had enough fresh air to last me a decade; and I’m quite ready to leave.’’ He stooped to retrieve the oblong case from its place against the bookshelf, and tucked it under his arm.

‘‘Oh, but they haven’t yet heard you play!’’ Exclaimed Nomthunzi, half rising from her seat in surprise. ‘‘Did you know, Miriam, Edward plays the cornett marvelously.’’

‘‘And it will wait, Madam! Come- ‘‘

‘‘Oh but Edward,’’ Nomthunzi persisted, but his imperious expression brooked no argument. She pursed her lips, but relented, dropping her half-eaten biscuit into the saucer with a clatter. ‘‘Very well, then, I’m afraid we must take our leave, Miriam. Oh, Liziwe dear, I’ve just told your Mother that we will be hosting a thanksgiving dinner; it is in three weeks’ time, and I do hope you can come.’’

‘‘We’d be delighted!’’ replied Liziwe with sincerity. It was not often that any real form of entertainment was to be found anywhere near Tyoborha, and it was a chance to mingle and make acquaintance with many a young person- including, the fleeting thought came to mind, the peculiar Mr Edward Nkosekhaya Skweyiya…

‘‘Edward will be in attendance, if I have anything to do with it, won’t you- oh, but he’s gone already, I’m sure if I do not collect my belongings this instant he will leave me altogether at the mercies of your hospitality! Do excuse us- Miriam, it was such a pleasure, let us make a habit of this.’’

‘‘The pleasure was entirely mine! And I do hope our little project comes to fruition,’’ exclaimed Miriam, shuffling forward to see her visitors to their carriage.

Mr Edward Skweyiya, Liziwe found herself in thought. A curious fellow, if ever there was one. And I, so it would seem, am a curious woman.