Rambles on the Edge. Wendy Maitland

so tall that it was higher than the house and heavy with fruit. I imagined the parties we could have in the big drawing room with guests spilling into the garden, and friends from country areas would come to stay when shopping in Salisbury, just as others had done when we lived in Kenya conveniently close to a town.

      Adam was impatient to start his new job and the children were excited about the move, especially Simon who would be starting school the next term. I was excited too, but sad to leave Hazel and her family as well as the many new friends we had made in Hartley. The hat ladies had blossomed in friendship once they discovered that my tea parties met their standards, with my cakes and sandwiches almost as good as theirs. Elsa was famed for her salad sandwiches and no one else was allowed to copy them, but everyone had their own specialities rolled out on each occasion. Mine were paté sandwiches with a good slug of brandy mixed in, giving me a sense of triumph when those ladies who were ultra-orthodox Christian teetotallers took big bites and exclaimed on the excellence of the paté.

      Moving house is seldom a soothing experience and flood water had damaged our furniture and carpets to such an extent that very few of these were worth keeping, so there was minimal packing up this time. We would be virtually camping in the big Salisbury house until we could re-equip ourselves more usefully from a second-hand shop or auction. The caretaker at the house was due to move out with her dogs the day before we moved in, and said she would leave the keys with the agent.

      After an early start from Hartley with an easy drive to Salisbury, we called at the agent’s office to collect the keys, but he said the caretaker was waiting for us at the house so we should go straight there. When we arrived with our van and the car filled with children and dogs, we found the caretaker inside, sitting at the kitchen table surrounded by empty boxes and her own dogs, showing no sign of any imminent move. Having expected a middle-aged caretaker, a government employee perhaps, I was startled to see instead a young woman who introduced herself without getting up from the table. ‘I’m lovely Lulu,’ she announced with a mocking smile and provocative wriggle that completely demolished any illusions I might have had about the kind of person I imagined meeting. I looked in wonder at her curvy body and complexion the colour of golden syrup, suddenly finding myself lost for words. She was wearing silk pyjamas of a similar colour that clung to her figure, and I noticed Adam’s eyes widening.

      ‘I’ve been a bit held up,’ she went on, ‘but I’ll be gone by tomorrow and meanwhile you can bring all your stuff in and make yourselves at home. I’m cooking mealie-meal for my dogs,’ she said, getting up to stir a pot on the stove.’

      We stood uncertainly watching her and the dogs that stared back at us menacingly. We needed to let our dogs out of the car where they had been confined during the entire journey, jammed in with the children and pieces of luggage, so we asked if she would keep her dogs inside while ours were allowed out. She turned from the mealie pot in alarm, ‘I didn’t know you were bringing dogs. No one said you were bringing dogs.’ She sounded affronted, as if we were guests in her house instead of the new tenants, and that it was highly inconvenient for us to be there at all, but she offered to put her dogs on chains outside.

      As soon as our dogs were let out, Lulu’s dogs went into a frenzy, barking hysterically and straining at their chains, enraged to have other dogs invading their territory. Ours, seeing that hers were tied up, felt empowered to bark back at them with such fury it led to uproar and we had to take them for a walk to get them out of the way. The children, as glad as the dogs to be released from the car, came too, all of us feeling relieved to escape the frantic scene, but shaken to find ourselves in this unexpected situation.

      ‘What are we going to do about the dogs?’ Louise asked as soon as we were out of the gate.

      ‘It isn’t the dogs we need to worry about so much as finding that our new house is still occupied, so we can’t move in properly until that woman Lulu moves out,’ Adam said, sounding thoroughly rattled.

      ‘She did say we could move our stuff inside, and there are enough bedrooms for all of us to sleep there tonight, and then tomorrow she’ll be gone,’ I said, wanting to sound practical and reassuring.

      ‘What about Roger and Ruin with all those horrible dogs?’ Louise persisted.

      ‘The dogs can stay on their chains and we’ll tie ours up on the veranda on the other side of the house. We’ll put their beds there. They won’t be able to see Lulu’s dogs, and hers won’t be able to see ours. Then tomorrow they’ll be gone.’

      ‘Can I choose a room for Peter and me?’ Simon asked, excited at the prospect that we would be moving in after all.

      ‘Yes, of course. There are lots of bedrooms. The agent wasn’t even sure how many there are, so the first thing you can do is count them, and make sure you find out where the bathrooms are.’

      That first night was the kind of camping experience which all of us were used to, except that when we started exploring the bedrooms we found that several of them were occupied by Lulu’s relatives who were unaware of any plan to move. At supper, all of them gathered to sit around a refectory table in the dining room and everyone brought their own food. I had ours in a cool bag ready for the evening when I thought we would be celebrating our first supper in the new house, so we had something for ourselves, including a bottle of wine, which was immediately seized and passed round. The children had no qualms about the unexpected dining arrangements, thinking it was all rather jolly, but my own concern grew as I looked around, thinking that we had inadvertently joined a commune. Lulu gave no impression that any move was planned for either the next day or perhaps ever, despite the presence of packing cases in the kitchen. She invited Adam to sit next to her at the table where, I noticed, she leaned her silky curves towards him and he became quite animated in response, showing none of his usual distaste for mammary hyperplasia.

      Afterwards, when he and I had retreated to the empty bedroom into which our double bed had been decanted and now stood looking forlorn among scattered suitcases, I confronted him, feeling too tired and stressed to be tactful. ‘We’ve got to get rid of Lulu and her motley family. Please don’t get friendly with her, encouraging her to think we can all live happily together.’

      ‘Please, darling, all I need just now is peace and quiet for starting my new job, without any bust-ups on the home front. Lulu has given her word that they are leaving tomorrow. You can see all the proof you need with her packing cases everywhere. It’s just that one of her brothers has nowhere else to go, so he might have to stay for a bit.’

      ‘What do you mean – her brother?’ I asked in alarm. ‘Have you agreed to that?’

      ‘Yes, but it’s only temporary. He’s blind and they haven’t got anywhere else for him yet. Someone comes in every day to look after him. He won’t be any trouble. You can sort out the house tomorrow after Lulu and the rest of them have left. Just try to keep things sweet. You’re good at that. I’m relying on you, sweetheart. I need to be at the office early to get briefed and pick up a company car so we can have independent transport. Now we’re paying rent we have to get my job underway smartish. It’s still “kazi kwanza” (work first). Nothing has changed where that is concerned.’ I was too tired to think of a riposte to that mantra, and preferred to remember a verse we had sung as children at Nakuru School when facing yet another wearisome task, driven like mules by the teachers: ‘Take your pack and trek, forever, take your pack and trek.’ So there we were, lifting our packs again, but all I wanted at that moment was a cool bed and deep sleep.

      Adam wanted an early breakfast, and all the others were still in their rooms when I went to the kitchen next morning to make toast and coffee from supplies unpacked from our own boxes. It was a relief to have the kitchen to ourselves and the children still asleep while I was impatient to check on Roger and Ruin and take them for a walk out of sight of Lulu’s dogs. When I got back from the walk, there were two vans in the drive and packers had arrived, so that was a welcome sight. Lulu herself was still in her room, asleep I was told, because she worked nights at a strip club. After hearing that I was ready for almost anything.

      Louise and Simon were impatient later to go and buy school uniforms, and see the school itself, which was only minutes away. We took the dogs with