A Spear of Summer Grass - By Deanna Raybourn Page 0,47
“For without the inspiration of woman, what man has ever accomplished anything?”
She simpered at this piece of gallantry and in the wake of it, I turned to Rex again.
“Speaking of the role of women, I’d like to buy a milk cow.”
He raised his brows. “Fancy starting your own dairy herd? Do you know anything about cattle?”
I shrugged. “What’s to learn? They all have four legs and give milk and when they don’t you can shoot them and eat them for dinner.”
Bianca gave a little scream and covered her mouth with her hands, but Jude Wickenden laughed aloud, the first sound I had heard out of her all evening.
Rex smiled, his laugh lines creasing handsomely. “Dairy cattle take quite a bit more attention than beef cattle. I have an excellent book on starting a dairy herd if you’re interested, although I’d be more than happy to sell you as much milk as you could possibly need for your little household.”
“Oh, it isn’t for us. It’s for the Kikuyu labourers.”
The room went silent. Even the music from the gramophone seemed suddenly softer. Everyone’s eyes fixed on me, and I could have guessed what they were thinking. Only the doctor dared say it aloud.
“You’ll spoil those devils if you give them milk. They can get their own and if they can’t, well, it’s nature’s way, isn’t it? Culling the herd.”
Rex ignored him. “In that case you’d be better off with a few head of native cattle. They’ll be more resistant to disease and the locals will like the milk better. It has a more pungent taste than what our European dairy cattle give. Take my advice and get a boy to tend them as well, preferably a Masai. I can arrange it with one of the natives if you like.”
I don’t know what made me resist. It would have been simpler just to leave it in Rex’s hands. But before I could do the easy thing, my mouth interrupted. “Thank you, but I think I’ll try it on my own first.”
Anthony Wickenden snorted into his glass, and Sybil Balfour shot him an evil look.
“Glad to hear it,” she boomed at me from her end of the table. “Too many women come out here and forget they’ve got brains of their own.” She looked from Bianca to Helen, and the latter gave a bright peal of laughter.
“Guilty as charged, Sybil. I don’t do anything but set a nice table and make sure the guest room is made up for travellers.”
“I know precisely what you do,” Sybil shot back, and I saw that Rex was watching them both closely.
“I am practicing my hostessing for when I’m first lady of Kenya,” Helen said, wrinkling her nose at Sybil.
I looked at Rex. “Do you have aspirations to be governor?”
“Governor!” It was Anthony Wickenden, talking with a little difficulty through his swollen lips. They seemed to have stiffened up during the meal. “He means to be president.”
I looked curiously at her, but Rex merely waved a hand. “Helen, I think it’s time to cut Anthony off,” he said with a twinkle. He turned to me. “Our great hope is that London will extend to Kenya the same status it has conferred upon Rhodesia—that of a free nation.”
“I heard some talk about that as I was coming in. Isn’t that why Governor Kendall is in England right now?”
Rex nodded. “Yes, pleading our case before the Parliamentary committee. We are every bit as educated and devoted to Africa as the landowners in Rhodesia, and we fought just as hard in the Great War to support the mother country. We deserve our shot at self-determination.”
“It sounds like a reasonable enough request. Will they grant it?”
“They are politicians,” Gervase said bitterly. “When were politicians ever reasonable?”
Rex was more generous. “Now, Gervase, that isn’t entirely fair. They listened to the Rhodesians and they responded. We can only hope they do the same for us.”
“They might if it weren’t for the bloody Indians,” the doctor interjected.
Yet again I ignored him and turned to Rex as he explained. “What the doctor means is that during the Great War, India supported England, as you must know.” He hesitated, touching only lightly on my own involvement in that terrible time. “There are a great many Indians here, running shops, building railways. They are almost all merchants or labourers. But they want to own land, and under the current laws they cannot. India is pushing the government in London to grant them ownership rights and to keep Kenya