Get e-book Flakes of Dark and Light: Tales from Southern Africa and Elsewhere

Free download. Book file PDF easily for everyone and every device. You can download and read online Flakes of Dark and Light: Tales from Southern Africa and Elsewhere file PDF Book only if you are registered here. And also you can download or read online all Book PDF file that related with Flakes of Dark and Light: Tales from Southern Africa and Elsewhere book. Happy reading Flakes of Dark and Light: Tales from Southern Africa and Elsewhere Bookeveryone. Download file Free Book PDF Flakes of Dark and Light: Tales from Southern Africa and Elsewhere at Complete PDF Library. This Book have some digital formats such us :paperbook, ebook, kindle, epub, fb2 and another formats. Here is The CompletePDF Book Library. It's free to register here to get Book file PDF Flakes of Dark and Light: Tales from Southern Africa and Elsewhere Pocket Guide.

Articles

  1. Flakes of Dark and Light
  2. Special offers and product promotions

He found her confidence attractive. She took him through it. It was old, very large and wandered a lot, having had bits added to it through the years. Many of the rooms were on different levels. All the usual fittings -- nothing lavish or modern -- but practically equipped. The kitchen had a big Aga stove and there was a door that had been boarded up. He looked at it wonderingly. Plenty of room for my family. Even a study for me and a studio for Victoria. He followed her, watching the way she moved her hips.

Do you swim, Mr Norfolk? He looked at her, anticipating how she would look in a swimsuit: She saw him looking and smiled contentedly to herself. Now the swimming pool and the garden! He followed her out, noting a conscious sensuality in her movements. He had to acknowledge a rising excitement in his blood. The pool was large with a short flight of curving steps descending into its shallow end. It had a springboard.

My second husband was—is—quite a wealthy man. He owns a wine-farm in the Cape. She stopped and changed her tack, abruptly. We farmed out at Rusape. This plot was just full of trees, then. The ones we left are indigenous! Except, of course, for that Norfolk pine in the middle. She seemed to look at it with nostalgia. And this Bottle-Brush Tree over the gazebo! He got a glimpse of the passion in her then. She indicated the frangipannis. Somehow, she gave the names of the trees and the plants capital letters when she spoke of them. At that moment, he felt as if he had been deprived of knowing these names all his life: I love the orange flowers in the Autumn.

Dark and Light: Tales of Gaia Trailer & Pre-Register

It grows wild here. And periodically the police come and I have to pull it up. But I always leave a little of the root and it grows again. Wicked of me, I know! But I love it! She was being deliberately ambiguous. After she had given him tea on the stoep he took his leave. The price she mentioned was out of his range. But the house was just right for his family. Afterwards he realized Drina Harding had disturbed him. For the next couple of weeks he turned the prospect over and over while he continued to inspect other properties.

However, hers was the one he kept coming back to. He returned a number of times to see it. He told himself he needed to refresh his memory, and then felt uncomfortable because he knew he went to see Drina Harding. She was always glad to see him and asked every time if he had made arrangements for the bond yet.

Three days later, he had good news from the University Council: Not a lot, but sufficient to cover the deposit on the house. And do you remember the drawings and paintings you made at the Art School? With the lines vibrant and the colours radiant, and the admiration that flowed from me like a stream when I saw them? And I wanted to make you a studio fit to house them and for you to work in? But we were poor and the children came and the life was hard. Oh, how you wanted the children and, do you remember, how I did not? Not because I would not love them but because I was afraid they would divide us.

And divide us they did. Although, still I love them. He phoned the UK at once and gave Victoria the news.

Flakes of Dark and Light

Her lilting Scots accent sounded non-committal. It must be that! Drina Harding came often to his mind—more than he cared to admit. He gave her a call to tell her about the loan. By now he had managed to mollify a little the deep unease Victoria had aroused in him; but he was still edgy with anticipation. Then, an unexpected University holiday intervened and upset the little sense of security he had managed to build up. Anything unexpected upset him these days, even small things! So, just before the boat was expected, he went to see Peter Huddett again. The boat arrives on Fridays.

Go and play tennis! Or take a swim!


  • The Handbook of Election News Coverage Around the World (ICA Handbook Series).
  • Cicero (Images of America (Arcadia Publishing));
  • Read kaa/flakes-of-dark-and-light-tales-from-southern-africa-and-elsewhere.
  • .
  • .
  • .

On Friday, he tried to keep his mind on his teaching chores, but succeeded badly. The agent is dockside now, checking everything. We have all your keys, I suppose? Our agent must be able to unlock anything Customs wants to see. Luckily, on Friday afternoons he was free from lectures. He made himself tea at his flat and fretted away an hour or so, his thoughts and feelings in disarray. Victoria had always felt their tour of duty in Lesotho was a sojourn in a savage world. She had never settled down there. She had never lifted a chisel or a paintbrush.

Once, she had done some typing at home for the British Council in Maseru. But, mostly, she had done nothing—not even needlework or cooking. The maid had done all the housework. Yes, it was true! Lesotho had then been a hardship station. But, Salisbury was another kettle of fish. He let another half-hour pass by before he rang Cooks again.

We have nothing to report. But your wife and children were not on the boat! The passenger list is before me at this moment. We rang our Southampton office. To South Africa, I mean! From today, the Safmarine passenger service ceases to exist! A liquidation, I think. He put the receiver back without thanking her. One by one, like dominoes, his feelings were falling down, clatter, clatter!


  1. HOMELESS: An After Christmas Story;
  2. Buyer Beware: The Crimes, Lies and Truth about Pet Food.
  3. Die letzten Tage (MYSTERY 321) (German Edition);
  4. Editorial Reviews.
  5. .
  6. !
  7. Ki Inspiring Thoughts - Developing a Generation of Honorable Warriors;
  8. He felt utterly flattened. What can I do? Now, the fig is wrinkled and dry, not because we are old, but because the root of us has been severed and the fruit dropped. Oh, the drought of it! As soon as he could get himself together, Alex Norfolk telephoned the U. Victoria was quite unrepentant. You said absolutely nothing! Misgiving only, I thought! I tried to reassure you! This call is costing. All these weeks and weeks of his anticipation and longing, and her pretence in seeming to play along with the arrangements!

    What about her communications with Peter Huddett? What about the house he had bought? The emotiona l capital he had put into everything? What would the reaction of his colleagues be? He suddenly felt betrayed. He was overwhelmed with questions to which he had no answers. He well knew what a job it was. Not a single objection about the details.

    He knew how she evaded issues by silence. He knew it of old. Even his new next-door neighbour, who had recently been to the UK on holiday, had, while she was there, paid a visit to Victoria personally, just to reassure her how safe Salisbury was: His neighbour had left him with the impression that Victoria was reassured! He reached through his memories for an incident to hang his feelings on: Their marriage had been peaceful.

    Except that, during the last two years -- it was true! At least, Alex treated it as interference. When Grandma took the children for surprise holidays, he presumed Grandma had cleared it with Victoria. Nothing was said to him about the arrangements. She took the children on trips to London. Or took them on shopping expeditions to buy them what they did not need -- expensive clothes, for example. Or gave them pocket money -- a wad of notes equivalent to a week of his salary. Or, without asking either parent, had their long hair cut off, which they had all wanted so much to grow!

    Grandma brought them back like shorn lambs! He recalled it had been so from the beginning. With their first child, Margaret, Grandma had visited soon after the birth and taken over. She had bathed the child, dressed her, changed her nappies, paraded her in the pram, and put her to sleep! She would have breast-fed the child also if she had been able to!

    He objected quietly to Victoria. But it made no difference. Her mother stayed for months. Eventually, after she had gone home, on his insistence, they moved house. But not even the length and breadth of the British Isles could keep Grandma away. He felt like a small reconnaissance force under constant fire from enemy guns. You never knew when the next salvo would come.

    Grandma was one of the reasons -- the main reason, actually -- that he first decided to work in Africa. Until now, he would have said that they had a good marriage. But they shared interests—many of them. The way they looked at the world was fairly consonant. Their basic values were harmonious. They talked to each other a lot.

    They often laughed together. Oh yes, she was very competitive by nature and wanted to beat him at most things. He wished he had. There is no doubt she was intelligent. She prided herself on being a member of Mensa. He had never tried to join: A collection of hyperbolical images yoked by intelligence together! Like a cargo of floating barrels! Intelligence was no guarantee for loving someone! He felt it should.


    1. American Auto Trail-Illinois U.S. Highway 67 (American Auto Trails);
    2. Puri, the Home of Lord Jagannatha;
    3. Awakening Downunder.
    4. Adrift In Caledonia: Boat-Hitching for the Unenlightened?
    5. !
    6. THE GIRL FROM MALAGA.
    7. Rory & Ita.
    8. Universities are no more moral than other kinds of organizations. More often than not—less so! From experience he knew that only too well. Victoria believed implicitly in Education. That was one of their biggest disagreements! He said it had been done successfully by only a few people. That was enough for Victoria! She dropped everything to solve it. Alex worked at it intermittently. She beat him to the solution by about a quarter of an hour. Of course, it was a sign of her superior mind! Owen was impressed by us both: When Alex had first met Victoria she had been an art student.

      She wanted passionately to be a painter and sculptor of note. Oh yes, she was very good! The best student in her class. Consciously Bohemian in her dress, in her style of life: Alex was a dull sketch in charcoal beside her. But he was young enough to be impressed. So —impressed he was! He admired her large gestures and her large boobs and her little Italian antecedents.

      The English Department had been in need of an Eighteenth Century specialist. Most of his off-duty hours he spent in the Library, preparing lectures. There was only a sprinkling of black students in his classes. Over breakfast, he usually scanned the property columns of The Rhodesia Herald. He smiled ruefully to himself at the thought, recalling the interminable British winters and the long wet summers.

      How did the popular joke go? He was glad and relieved to be in the bright African sun again. England, with its suffocating tininess and oppressive ceilings of perpetual cloud, made him feel as if he had lived on a sodden pocket handkerchief at the entrance of a long gloomy tunnel closed at the other end. On his very first tour of duty in Africa, he realized that, for thirty years, he had never felt warm enough. The days that were fine in Britain had been so few and far between they had felt like mistakes.

      The properties within daily cycling distance he marked in red. If he thought he could afford one, he marked it with two stars. The ones he would like to buy, but could not afford, got one star. These latter had double or treble garages, stables, swimming pools, tennis courts, underground lawn-sprinklers, braai areas and night arc-lights, as well as spacious well-appointed living areas with air-conditioners; and two or three bathrooms and showers.

      Special offers and product promotions

      In fact, every modern convenience! He wished he could sing. These Colonials knew how to live! Every evening, after he had eaten, he got on his bicycle—he could not yet afford a car—and rode to inspect houses. If they were a long way from the University, they were probably too far away to buy. But sometimes, if one promised to be a great bargain, he took a taxi, and then spent hours going over the pros and cons: And so on, endlessly, pro, con, pro, con.

      Visiting properties, thinking properties and calculating costs made him feel agitated, so he went to see Peter Huddett far too often. All the properties, even the ones he could afford, were luxurious by the British standards he had become accustomed to. They would cost a fortune there! None of them had bothered him! The quality of life had been good. He just went on with his work. He never got involved in politics. He believed that teaching English was a sufficiently subversive activity in itself.

      Particularly the way he taught it. His job was hard. He had a heavy timetable of lectures. There was a lot of preparation and a lot of scripts to mark. He often worked late into the night. However, his first priority was to find a suitable house for Vicky and the kids. He wrote a number of letters to her describing the ones he saw, pointing out how well or otherwise they would suit them. When she wrote back, she said nothing about his suggestions, confining herself to what the children were doing at school and at home, and telling him how beastly the Summer in England was that year.

      It was by now only six weeks or so before their boat sailed. Soon, they would be here! They would be here! He found himself calculating the days, hours and minutes before the boat docked in Cape Town. To pacify his restless mind, he visited the Registrar again. Peter Huddett was obviously preoccupied with more important tasks. They make the detailed arrangements. When he phoned, a rather stupid girl answered and said their agent dealing with UK passages was presently down at the harbour and she promised she would instruct him to ring Alex back.

      But he heard nothing for days and was too busy at the University himself to phone during office hours. So he decided to wait until the day the boat docked. There was nothing he could do at this stage, anyway. A little later on, he inspected a property about ten minutes cycle ride from the Campus. No price was stated in the advertisement.

      The grounds seemed extensive, a quarter acre or more, surrounded by a low whitewashed wall. The driveway had two square pillars, taller than a man, and the front wall extended for nearly the whole length of the short road. There was a house at either end of it and rolling parkland on the opposite side of the road which he knew belonged to the Anglo American Mining Corporation. It was in an exclusive district of the town.

      He rode up the curving gravel drive, admiring the scarlet poinsettias that lined it as he went. They really were striking! A long low whitewashed house with a galvanized roof was built transversely across the plot. A mosquito-netted stoep in front: Purple Bougainvillea and Cape Honeysuckle smouldered beautifully along its length.

      Other tropical shrubs and flowers he did not know the name of grew profusely in the narrow bed directly in front of the stoep. A woman came out on the stoep to meet him. She was tallish with a good figure. As she approached him, he saw that, although she was not young, she was beautiful. She held out her hand.

      Bright blue eyes, a sensual mouth. A pleasant smile showed good teeth. He leaned his bicycle against the stoep. It was cool and soft and intimate. There was no awkwardness in her. He guessed she was usually at ease with herself and others. He found her confidence attractive. She took him through it. It was old, very large and wandered a lot, having had bits added to it through the years. Many of the rooms were on different levels. All the usual fittings -- nothing lavish or modern -- but practically equipped.

      The kitchen had a big Aga stove and there was a door that had been boarded up. He looked at it wonderingly. Plenty of room for my family. Even a study for me and a studio for Victoria. He followed her, watching the way she moved her hips. Do you swim, Mr Norfolk? He looked at her, anticipating how she would look in a swimsuit: She saw him looking and smiled contentedly to herself.

      Now the swimming pool and the garden! He followed her out, noting a conscious sensuality in her movements. He had to acknowledge a rising excitement in his blood. The pool was large with a short flight of curving steps descending into its shallow end. It had a springboard. My second husband was—is—quite a wealthy man. He owns a wine-farm in the Cape. She stopped and changed her tack, abruptly. We farmed out at Rusape. This plot was just full of trees, then.

      The ones we left are indigenous! Except, of course, for that Norfolk pine in the middle. She seemed to look at it with nostalgia. And this Bottle-Brush Tree over the gazebo! He got a glimpse of the passion in her then.

      She indicated the frangipannis. Somehow, she gave the names of the trees and the plants capital letters when she spoke of them. At that moment, he felt as if he had been deprived of knowing these names all his life: I love the orange flowers in the Autumn. It grows wild here. And periodically the police come and I have to pull it up.

      But I always leave a little of the root and it grows again. Wicked of me, I know! But I love it! She was being deliberately ambiguous. After she had given him tea on the stoep he took his leave. The price she mentioned was out of his range. But the house was just right for his family. Afterwards he realized Drina Harding had disturbed him. For the next couple of weeks he turned the prospect over and over while he continued to inspect other properties. However, hers was the one he kept coming back to.

      He returned a number of times to see it. He told himself he needed to refresh his memory, and then felt uncomfortable because he knew he went to see Drina Harding. She was always glad to see him and asked every time if he had made arrangements for the bond yet. Three days later, he had good news from the University Council: Not a lot, but sufficient to cover the deposit on the house.

      And do you remember the drawings and paintings you made at the Art School? With the lines vibrant and the colours radiant, and the admiration that flowed from me like a stream when I saw them? And I wanted to make you a studio fit to house them and for you to work in? But we were poor and the children came and the life was hard.

      Oh, how you wanted the children and, do you remember, how I did not? Not because I would not love them but because I was afraid they would divide us. And divide us they did. Although, still I love them. He phoned the UK at once and gave Victoria the news. Her lilting Scots accent sounded non-committal. It must be that! Drina Harding came often to his mind—more than he cared to admit.

      He gave her a call to tell her about the loan. By now he had managed to mollify a little the deep unease Victoria had aroused in him; but he was still edgy with anticipation. Then, an unexpected University holiday intervened and upset the little sense of security he had managed to build up.

      Anything unexpected upset him these days, even small things! So, just before the boat was expected, he went to see Peter Huddett again. The boat arrives on Fridays. Go and play tennis! Or take a swim! On Friday, he tried to keep his mind on his teaching chores, but succeeded badly. The agent is dockside now, checking everything. We have all your keys, I suppose?

      Our agent must be able to unlock anything Customs wants to see. Luckily, on Friday afternoons he was free from lectures. He made himself tea at his flat and fretted away an hour or so, his thoughts and feelings in disarray. Victoria had always felt their tour of duty in Lesotho was a sojourn in a savage world. She had never settled down there. She had never lifted a chisel or a paintbrush. Once, she had done some typing at home for the British Council in Maseru. But, mostly, she had done nothing—not even needlework or cooking. The maid had done all the housework.

      Yes, it was true! Lesotho had then been a hardship station. But, Salisbury was another kettle of fish. He let another half-hour pass by before he rang Cooks again. We have nothing to report. But your wife and children were not on the boat! The passenger list is before me at this moment.

      We rang our Southampton office. To South Africa, I mean! From today, the Safmarine passenger service ceases to exist! A liquidation, I think. He put the receiver back without thanking her. One by one, like dominoes, his feelings were falling down, clatter, clatter! He felt utterly flattened. What can I do? Now, the fig is wrinkled and dry, not because we are old, but because the root of us has been severed and the fruit dropped. Oh, the drought of it! As soon as he could get himself together, Alex Norfolk telephoned the U. Victoria was quite unrepentant. You said absolutely nothing!

      Misgiving only, I thought! I tried to reassure you! This call is costing. All these weeks and weeks of his anticipation and longing, and her pretence in seeming to play along with the arrangements! What about her communications with Peter Huddett? A contemporary of Ted Hughes, and with many of his stories set in the depressed, sometimes seedy England of the Thirties and Forties which Graham Greene depicted in his early novels, its not surprising that Roy Hollands images and sentences are like flakes that cut like broken glass. A true artist, he does not take sides, but holds up a mirror to show life as it isorwaswhether in a pre-war England or an Africa ravaged by drought and violence.

      His tales are snapshots, truthful, sometimes startling, of two quite distinct cultures. However disparate they may seem, one is invariably aware of an underlying tenderness and sympathetic vision in the portrayal of character, regardless of race or background, that binds them together. Read more Read less. Here's how restrictions apply. About the Author Roy Holland was born in Birmingham. Be the first to review this item Amazon Best Sellers Rank: Start reading Flakes of Dark and Light on your Kindle in under a minute. Don't have a Kindle? Try the Kindle edition and experience these great reading features: Share your thoughts with other customers.

      Write a customer review. Amazon Giveaway allows you to run promotional giveaways in order to create buzz, reward your audience, and attract new followers and customers. Learn more about Amazon Giveaway.