Read Online The Sun Between Their Feet by Doris Lessing - Free Book Online Page A

He disapproved on principle of white men doing heavy manual labour. He said: ‘I will keep six to do the heavy work.’
    Michele shrugged; and the Captain went over and dismissed all but six of the Africans. He came back with them to Michele.
    â€˜It is hot,’ said Michele.
    â€˜Very,’ said the Captain. They were standing in the middle of the parade-ground. Around its edge trees, grass, gulfs of shadow. Here, nothing but reddish dust, drifting and lifting in a low hot breeze.
    â€˜I am thirsty,’ said Michele. He grinned. The Captain felt his stiff lips loosen unwillingly in reply. The two pairs of eyes met. It was a moment of understanding. For the Captain, the little Italian had suddenly become human. ‘I will arrange it,’ he said, and went off down-town. By the time he hadexplained the position to the right people, filled in forms and made arrangements, it was late afternoon. He returned to the parade-ground with a case of Cape brandy, to find Michele and the six black men seated together under a tree. Michele was singing an Italian song to them, and they were harmonizing with him. The sight affected the Captain like an attack of nausea. He came up, and the Africans stood to attention. Michele continued to sit.
    â€˜You said you would do the work yourself?’
    â€˜Yes, I said so.’
    The Captain then dismissed the Africans. They departed, with friendly looks towards Michele, who waved at them. The Captain was beef-red with anger. ‘You have not started yet?’
    â€˜How long have I?’
    â€œThree weeks.’
    â€œThen there is plenty of time,’ said Michele, looking at the bottle of brandy in the Captain’s hand. In the other were two glasses. ‘It is evening,’ he pointed out. The Captain stood frowning for a moment. Then he sat down on the grass, and poured out two brandies.
    â€˜Ciao,’ said Michele.
    â€˜Cheers,’ said the Captain. Three weeks, he was thinking. Three weeks with this damned little Itie! He drained his glass and refilled it, and set it in the grass. The grass was cool and soft. A tree was flowering somewhere close – hot waves of perfume came on the breeze.
    â€˜It is nice here,’ said Michele. ‘We will have a good time together. Even in a war, there are times of happiness. And of friendship. I drink to the end of the war.’
    Next day, the Captain did not arrive at the parade-ground until after lunch. He found Michele under the frees with a bottle. Sheets of ceiling board had been erected at one end of the parade-ground in such a way that they formed two walls and part of a third, and a slant of steep roof supported on struts.
    â€˜What’s that?’ said the Captain, furious.
    â€˜The church,’ said Michele.
    â€˜Wha-at?’
    â€˜You will see. Later. It is very hot.’ He looked at the brandy bottle that lay on its side on the ground. The Captain went to the lorry and returned with the case of brandy. They drank. Time passed. It was a long time since the Captain had sat on grass under a tree. It was a long time, for that matter, since he had drunk so much. He always drank a great deal, but it was regulated to the times and seasons. He was a disciplined man. Here, sitting on the grass beside this little man whom he still could not help thinking of as an enemy, it was not that he let his self-discipline go, but that he felt himself to be something different: he was temporarily set outside his normal behaviour. Michele did not count. He listened to Michele talking about Italy, and it seemed to him he was listening to a savage speaking: as if he heard tales from the mythical South Sea islands where a man like himself might very well go just once in his life. He found himself saying he would like to make a trip to Italy after the war. Actually, he was attracted only by the North and the Northern people. He had visited Germany, under Hitler, and though it was not the time to say so,