Authors: Judith Stephan
“I love surprises,” he said.
She watched his face carefully wanting to see his reaction as he opened the box and saw the gold chain with the small filigree lion’s head on it.
“I know you might think it a bit odd, living in Africa and all … but it’s how I see you. A lion. King of the wild.”
“It’s beautiful,” he said.
“I’m afraid there is not as much choice at your gift shop as there is at Harrod’s … but I wanted to thank you. And that was the best thing I could find. I hope you like it. I really can’t thank you enough, Stratt.”
“Put it on for me,” he said and he bent his head forward so she could fasten the chain behind his neck. She was aware of the clean fresh smell of his hair and his cologne, and an electric shock passed through her as she fumbled against his skin with the catch.
*
The same dirt track at night was terrifying for Shilo. Silhouettes of giant
acacia
and baobab trees looked ominous against the backdrop of the indigo night sky. Rocky outcrops and anthills took on the form of people crouching in the
veld
and strange cries and sounds of vegetation moving (or being moved!) emanated from the bushes and undergrowth. The headlights of the Jeep caught numerous pairs of startled eyes in their gaze. Shilo’s intermittent gasps and cries of “What was that?” made Stratt laugh.
At one turn a dead tree trunk, gnarled and twisted, made her jump again. Stratt put a reassuring hand on her leg.
“Everything’s fine,” he said, “you’re perfectly safe in here with me. We can outdrive and outsmart any dangerous predator – and I have this…” he said picking up a shotgun which lay unsuspectingly between the seats.
Shilo smiled warily at the huge hunting rifle. She felt unusually secure with this man. She knew instinctively that he could protect her from this harsh and dangerous terrain, which he knew so well - and anything that dwelt in it. Yet, she was again also partially repulsed, as in England no man would ever drive around in such a rough vehicle wielding huge weapons. It was a world that was completely alien to her.
The waterhole was not like anything that she had expected. It was a dam, reeded on one side and glistening silver in the moonlight. The other sides of the dam were muddy and rutted, evidence of heavy animal traffic. It was fairly busy. Pre-dawn was rush hour. Some anxious deer drank steadily in the pre-dawn light, until startled by some invisible force, which made them disappear into the thicket. The reason was evident some five minutes later, when a pride of lions, consisting of two males, one smaller than the other, five females and several cubs of varying ages, ambled down to the water’s edge to drink their fill. Shilo sat mesmerised by the scene. Lions! Real, live lions! These were no animated lions from ‘The Lion King’, or any flea-bitten specimens she had seen in the London Zoo or the annual circus, or even the big cats that had starred in National Geographic specials. These ones were fifteen metres away and very real... So close, she could almost smell them. So big and so noble. There was something incredibly majestic about their confidence, their arrogance, their presence. A deep-seated, primeval thrill of fear passed through her, and she moved subconsciously closer to Stratt, her guide and protector.
“They won’t attack us, will they?” she whispered.
He casually put his arm around her and laughed as he drew her closer to him, and she felt his warm breath in her hair as she nestled into him.
“We’re downwind. They don’t even know that we’re here.”
“But what if…”
“Ssssh,” said Stratt and placed a finger on her lips. “Just watch and wait. Don’t say a word.”
A pair of graceful giraffes entered the clearing to their left, and also came to quench their thirst at this oasis in the weather-tortured bush. They painstakingly spread their front legs and lowered their necks awkwardly to drink.
“The lions probably ate last night. The giraffes seem to sense that they are in no danger from them … But watch the crocs?”
“What crocs? I don’t see any crocodiles,” Shilo gasped.
Stratt pointed to what Shilo had thought were simply logs lurking beneath the darkened surface of the water.
“Those are crocodiles?” she said, the terror in her voice was evident.
“Giraffes are easy prey here. It takes them so long to get into that drinking position and the same to get out, that they are sitting ducks for predators.”
A few moments later there was a tremendous splash and a mighty gnashing of prehistoric jaws. Shilo flung her arms around Stratt in terror, and he held her close. He reveled in the feel of her body close to his, her scent, and perhaps held her tighter than he should have. The crocodile’s massive jaws had clamped on the leg of the smaller of the giraffes, and was pulling it, struggling and splashing, into the murky, muddy shallows of its lair. It rolled over and over in the boiling water as the giraffe bucked and struggled. Eventually its thrashing was stilled as its lungs slowly filled with water. The lions looked on unflinching. Nature ignored the tragedy. It was simply part of the inevitable circle of life.
“Do you mind?” said Stratt, laughing, and prying her hands off from around his neck. “There are really far more romantic ways than this.”
Shilo was once again humiliated by the inference. She had been clutching him harshly around his neck. He had also said ‘romantic’. Romance with this hulk of a man was definitely not on the cards … or was it? She no longer was a hundred percent certain.
“I’m sorry,” she stammered, “I was just so scared.”
The sky was turning a pinkish-orange on the horizon giving definition to the dark shadows, and making the world seem a little less ominous.
“So what did you dream about last night? It must have been really frightening,” Stratt said, cutting to the chase.
“I can’t talk about it,” Shilo answered. “I don’t want to talk about it. Besides it’s really none of your business.”
“Why? It’s a nightmare. Sometimes if you talk about it, it’s like a type of therapy. You know I can’t ignore it. I know it happened, because I was there. Anything that frightening and that terrifying needs to be shared, Shilo. I’m offering a compassionate ear here.”
“Stratt, I can’t talk about it. I don’t want to talk about it. It’s a part of my life that I don’t want to remember. It’s part of my life that I don’t want you to know about,” Shilo said, her tone was quite stern. “It has nothing to do with you.”
“I used to have recurring nightmares,” Stratt said, “I used to dream about this aeroplane … I was always on a God-damned aeroplane. And then it would start falling, going round and round in circles, like a fighter plane that’s been shot down in an old war movie, and I’d see the ground coming closer and closer … and then…” he drifted off.
“And then what?” Shilo asked.
“And then I’d wake up. But I have a deep-seated fear of flying. I never fly – I hate it with a passion. If there’s another way I’ll take it, but flying is out of the question.”
“My dreams are real. It’s something that happened to me when I was a child that my subconscious won’t let me forget. Not some make-believe fantasy, like yours … now let’s just leave it, okay?”
“Look,” Stratt said suddenly changing the subject, “there’s a cheetah. You hardly ever see cheetahs. They are terribly shy animals.”
The majestic creature slunk stealthily towards the water’s edge to drink its fill. Once or twice it would lift its head and analyse the surroundings, before it dipped its head to drink again.
Then the dazzling sun slowly rose out of the hills to the east, illuminating the morning in a million shades of peach and orange. Shilo felt completely at peace. She sat in the crook of Stratt’s arm as he explained in depth each animal that visited the waterhole, and she was in awe at the wealth of information that was being revealed to her. They sipped the steaming, aromatic hot chocolate he had brought with them from the same cup. They were both ignoring the fact that they were enjoying each other’s company, the closeness of the other’s body … and how so like a couple they might have appeared to any hidden watcher.
“How come you know so much about these animals?” she asked.
“Well, I’ve grown up with them. But I also have several degrees, a masters and a doctorate. I’m a qualified zoologist, you know? My title, although I never use it because it makes me seem like a pompous ass, is Doctor Stratt Ogilvy.”
“Oh, really? I’m impressed … I always thought you were …” she broke off, realising that she was about to be inadvertently offensive, aware of the insulting words that would exude from her lips.
“You thought what?” he said abruptly, retracting his arm from around her shoulders.
“Nothing.”
“What?” he insisted.
“Well…. sort of … I don’t know … unqualified… just a park ranger,” but she knew she had made a mistake even before the deluge that followed.
“Listen to me,” he said sternly, “You know nothing about me at all… And yet you have judged me. I know what you think I am… I’ve heard it in your pompous, arrogant tone of voice, your ‘I don’t fraternise with the help’ shit. But I’m more than that. I’m much greater, much more educated than you could ever be. You have got no right to be so prejudiced even if you think you are the Queen of England. Just because you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth does not make you any better than any other human being on this planet. You are a rich bitch. A snob… And I really don’t appreciate your insinuations. If that is the way you are continually going to behave, then I really don’t want anything more to do with you.”
With that, the engine roared to life, sending animals scattering in all directions: a troupe of baboons were stirred to a frenzy and bounded into the undergrowth screeching loudly, and a flock of frightened flamingoes rushed up into the dawn sky in a cloud of beating wings as the Jeep roared off in a swirl of dust.
Shilo felt deeply hurt and ashamed. What had she done? Again her supercilious attitude had got her into trouble. She was just warming to this enigmatic man, this man who had calmed her after a nightmare, had comforted her when she was sick, had treated her sunburn, when she had spoiled it all. Even if he was a commoner, like she thought – so what? Not everyone was fortunate to lay claim to an aristocratic birthright. Why did it make such a difference to her?
The drive back to the lodge was hell. Stratt stared blankly and silently ahead of him, completely ignoring Shilo’s presence and pleas to let her explain, and drove extremely fast so that the Jeep flew over bumps and jolted and jerked. She held on for dear life, and her head was thrown around so that she feared she might get whiplash. He screeched to a halt outside the main building, got out and slammed the door, leaving her sitting forlornly in the front seat.
“I’m sorry,” she called after him, but he pretended not to hear.
The magical aura of darkness had completely disappeared.
*
Stratt lay on his bed and stared mesmerised at the fan spinning idly on his ceiling. He subconsciously toyed with the chain around his neck, fingering the lion’s head. Perhaps he had been too hard on her, but she needed, once and for all, to be put in her place. She had prejudged him. She thought he was a nothing. She had thought he was “the help”, a servant to her, that he was uneducated … if only she knew. She probably thought she was slumming it going out with him in the dark hours before dawn … like a naughty school girl ignoring a curfew … like forbidden fruit. She was only focused on class and wealth and social standing. Why was it so important to her? He did not mean everything he had said, especially the bit about wanting nothing to do with her. His head had said it was a good idea but his heart wanted everything to do with her. Everything. He would just have to play it cool for a few days and then see what would happen. What will be, will be, he thought to himself.
*