‘They liked her, the National Parks people,’ Moses said, coming to stand by Jed.
‘They told you that?’
‘She liked talking to the women, and tried to learn some of the local language. They gave her a nickname, you know.’
‘I didn’t know. What?’
‘
Mama Shumba
, the mother of the lions. The other women thought she was very brave.’
‘And what did the men think of a woman out here alone, researching big cats?’
Moses smiled. ‘The truth? They thought she was an idiot.’
Jed couldn’t help smiling at Moses’s candour.
‘Do you know where they think she died?’
‘The head ranger said it was on the track to the river, near where the sand starts. Come, we’ll have a look.’
The two men walked closer to the sandy bank and Jed could see now where animals, either buffalo or elephant or both, had worn a clear trail to the water’s edge. They found a spot where the dry grass on either side of the bare dirt pathway yielded to the river’s sand. There was no sign of any human remains, not that Jed had expected there would be.
‘They say they found some blood and pieces of bones and clothes here, but by the time the police and more rangers got here, the hyenas had removed all trace of the body. One of the rangers said he saw a blue hat, covered in blood, but that too was gone when they returned. The man said he recognised the hat as Miranda’s as it had an American university’s name on it.’
‘I didn’t read about the hat in the police report. Maybe someone souvenired it?’
‘Stole it, you mean? Not all African people are thieves, Jed. But, yes, I suppose it is possible. In any case, it is not good.’
‘No,’ Jed agreed. One more piece of evidence, albeit circumstantial, that Miranda was dead, consumed by wild beasts.
Jed stared down at the ground, the spot where his only child’s life had most likely ended. If he was a religious man, he would have prayed, but he was not. Instead, he knelt down on one knee and ran his hand across the ground, feeling the texture of the grass, the sand, the dirt of the track. The surface of the earth was warm in the morning sun. He scooped a handful of dark, rich, musty soil from the trail and let it run out, slowly, through his fingers. He smelled the river’s dankness on the slight breeze, the dung and scent of animals that had passed to and from the water’s edge, and the sweat of his own body. This was a place where man’s impact was minimal and where humans took their chances with the animal inhabitants in much the same way as they had since their ancestors evolved from primates.
‘I know where I would like to die, if I had a choice.’ Jed stood and brushed the dirt from his hands.
‘In battle, as a warrior?’
Jed smiled. ‘No. In a wood cabin on the edge of the Great Lakes. With my boots off, and in bed, after a great day’s fishing and drinking. I want to go peacefully.’
‘Me, I also want to die in bed, after a great day’s fishing and drinking. But I don’t want to go peacefully – I want a young woman involved as well.’ Moses grinned.
‘I wonder whether Miranda would have wanted to stay here long-term, whether the place had got to her.’
‘Africa? Maybe. People come to this valley for all sorts of reasons. Some to hunt animals, some to save them. Some come to commit crime, like the Zambian poachers, and some to stop crime. One thing that these people have in common is that they never leave, or never want to leave. Miranda was doing the work she loved. No one comes here thinking it is an easy life. It’s hot and wet and muddy in the summer, and hot and dry and dusty in the winter; there are tsetse flies and malaria, and, yes, it can be very dangerous. But there is nowhere on earth more beautiful than this place.’
Moses helped Jed unload the tent from the Land Rover and said, ‘Over there, under that tree, where the grass is yellow. That is where she must have had it set up.’
‘We’ll put it in the same place.’
Jed stripped off his shirt and laid it on the branch of a fallen tree. The sun and the temperature were climbing steadily and the sweat ran into his eyes and beaded on his chest as the two of them erected the canvas dome tent. The tent had collapsible metal poles and, when erected, would have been big enough to sleep a family of four in relative comfort.
‘I never asked you, Jed, but why did you come looking for me? Who told you about me?’ Moses asked as they worked.
‘A lady called Eveline.’ Jed looked up at the tracker for a reaction.
Moses gave a little smile. ‘A good woman. A good friend. I saved her life, a long time ago.’ His tone was matter-of-fact.
‘What happened?’ Jed asked as he hooked the canvas dome onto a bendy pole.
‘Her husband had died and she came on a photographic safari with some friends. I was the junior guide. I got to carry the food and water, but no rifle. The senior man was
madala
– old. His eyes were not as good as they were when he was young. He saw some buffalo spoor on the trail but told the tourists it was old – more than a day I checked it and said, no, it was fresh, because the ants had not crossed the tracks, no grass or leaves had fallen on them. Also, I saw that the buffalo was limping – he was favouring his right hind leg and the imprint in the ground was not as deep. The old man told me to be quiet, but I thought we were getting too close to a dangerous injured animal. Even if the senior man agreed with me, he could not back down in front of the tourists, you understand?’
Jed nodded.
‘We passed a thicket of Jesse bush and this one old buffalo bull, he charged us. I knew we would come to him eventually The main guide, he fired his rifle, but he didn’t kill the buff. Just wounded him. The bull was heading right for Eveline, so I pushed her out of the way, then led her to a tree and helped her climb it. The buffalo turned on the old man and gored him. I got the rifle and killed the animal.
‘Eveline and I stayed in touch. I worked for her for a while, on her farm, when the tourism work dried up. She was the madam, the one in charge, but we were friends. We came here to the valley often, before she had to leave the country.’
Jed wondered how deep the friendship went, but said nothing. ‘I’m going for a piss.’
‘Be careful, Jed,’ Moses said.
‘Sure.’
Jed walked to the edge of the clearing that Miranda’s tent now stood in again. He started to unzip, then turned as he felt a hand on his arm. ‘Hey, buddy!’
‘Stand still. Don’t move,’ Moses said.
Jed turned. The guide had a rock in his hand. He drew back his arm and threw it. Jed followed the short, sharp trajectory of the throw and took a step back as he saw a flash of movement. A long, thin grey-green coloured snake rared momentarily, lifting its narrow, pointed head off the ground, rising to knee-height not three metres from where Jed had been about to relieve himself. The snake slithered off. ‘Shit. Thanks,’ he said.
‘That was a black mamba – they call it that because the inside of its mouth is black,’ Moses said, watching the reptile zip away, back into the long grass.
‘Looks like you saved my life, as well as Eveline’s,’ Jed said.
‘It is nothing. My job. However, if it had bitten you, there would have been little I could have done for you.’
‘When did you see it?’
‘I saw it when we stepped out of the Land Rover. I said nothing because I didn’t want to disturb your memories. I’ve been keeping an eye on it while we were putting up the tent.’
‘Eveline told me you were good.’ Jed found he had lost the urge to urinate. He wouldn’t have seen the snake until he trod – or pissed – on it.
‘As I said, it is my job,’ Moses said, shrugging his big shoulders. ‘This is a nice tent. Good for hunting or photographic tours.’
Jed thought a moment, then said, ‘Consider it your bonus.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s yours. You can have it. I don’t need a tent – I hired one with the Land Rover. Besides, I spend enough time under canvas in the Army so I don’t want to take it home.’
‘But it was your daughter’s,’ Moses said.
Jed sighed. ‘Everyone around me seems to be of the consensus that it’s time for me to accept that Miranda is gone and to find some closure – to let go. I don’t need a tent to remember what my daughter’s face looked like or the way she laughed.’
‘Thank you. It is a fine tent.’
‘Well, let’s see what’s inside.’
Jed unzipped the large entry flap. The door was made of two layers, an exterior of canvas and an interior panel of closely woven green nylon mesh, which allowed air to get in while still affording some privacy. There was an identical door at the rear of the tent, or the front, depending which way it was erected.
‘Both of these doors are intact. Strange.’
‘Why strange?’
‘Well, the police theory was that Miranda was taken by the lion because she left the flap of her tent open, presumably because it was hot.’
‘It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened.’
‘But why would she unzip the whole door? Why not leave the mosquito mesh zipped closed? She could have opened both the canvas flaps and allowed the air to circulate. Would a lion be able to see through this insect screen?’
‘No. Some people sleep on the ground in the bush with just a mosquito net over them. The lion sees in black and white and has trouble with his …’ Moses struggled to remember the English term, ‘deepness?’
‘Depth of vision?’
‘Yes, that is it. To him even a mosquito net looks like a solid building or termite mound. However, if a door is open, and it can see movement inside the tent, a lion will enter.’
‘So why would she have the whole door open?’
‘Who knows? Maybe she was opening the door in the middle of the night for some other reason. To go into the bush.’
‘To the toilet, you mean?’
Moses shrugged. ‘It’s possible.’
Jed stepped into the tent. It was a familiar smell. Damp, slightly moulding canvas, the distinctive odour getting stronger as the material absorbed the sun’s rays. How many nights had he spent under canvas? Too many He didn’t like tents – they reminded him of base life on overseas operations.
Waiting to go out in the field or coming back, dog-tired. He preferred spending his nights in the open air.
Moses followed him in and dropped to one knee. ‘See here, Jed. Some dirt is left from the lion, I think.’
‘The police report said they found fresh pug marks, muddy lion tracks, on the floor. I would have thought there would be some claw marks, maybe punctures in the floor?’
‘The lion’s claws are retractable. He keeps them inside his paw until they are needed. Only the cheetah walks with his claws out all the time.’
Jed ran a hand over the walls. ‘No rips in the door or sides. No sign of violence. No blood.’
Moses surveyed the floor of the tent, his eyes sweeping left and right. ‘Yes, you are right. No blood. There is nothing to suggest she was killed or attacked in here, although the lion has entered the tent at some time.’
‘So you think she was killed outside the tent.’
‘That would explain why the door was left fully open. She leaves the tent in the middle of the night – or day – for whatever reason. The lion takes her and later searches her tent, possibly looking for another victim.’
Jed walked outside into the sunshine and looked down at the river again. At least this theory indicated Miranda had not been completely reckless by sleeping with the tent flap open. Who knew why she had left the comparative safety of her tent and ventured out that night?
‘When will you know for sure about the identity of the remains in the lion’s belly?’ Moses asked.
‘Probably in a couple of days, but I’ll have to get to somewhere with a telephone, or some place where my mobile phone works.’
‘At least you will be prepared for the news, Jed. And you have now seen where your daughter spent her last days.’
‘Yes. That’s some comfort, I suppose.’ Cold comfort, he thought to himself. ‘I’m really beginning to see what brought her here. It is a magnificent place. Moses, I need your help with one more thing.’
‘Of course, what is it?’
‘I want you to talk to some of the women in the staff village – I understand you’re good at that.’
Moses smiled at the compliment.
‘I want to find out who the man was my daughter was seeing. I don’t care what their relationship was, but I do want to talk to him, to meet him. I suspect the professor will try to find out this information as well. Has she asked you?’
‘No, she hasn’t.’
Jed nodded. ‘Good. Now, I’d like a couple of minutes alone, down by the water. Do you mind staying here?’
‘I don’t mind. Go, say goodbye to your daughter, Jed. Just watch out for buffalo down there.’
Jed walked back along the animal track towards the river, past the spot where one of nature’s superpredators had torn the life from his only child. As he placed one foot in front of the other he felt the emotion well up inside him. By the time he reached the sandy riverbank he was finding it hard to breathe. He started to retch, as though he was going to vomit, but only a cry escaped his lips: a guttural moan, like the sound of a dying animal. He bit his lip to stop the noise, but couldn’t stop the tears that flooded his eyes, obscuring his vision. He sank to his knees in the hot white sand.
He saw the face of a tiny baby, him standing over her in his camouflage fatigues, Patti smiling, but her eyes silently reproaching him for missing the birth. The eight-millimetre film of a little blonde girl taking her first wobbly steps – he’d watched the home movie over and over again when he returned from an exercise in Egypt, hoping he could make up for not being there in the flesh. He saw the chubby little hand waving at him as he left the family home for the last time, bags packed. Patti not crying, just hating him. He saw the beautiful young woman who had done well at school and college and who had sought him out and let him back into her life, even though it proved too little, too late.
He had failed his child. Completely and utterly. He had given nothing to her development as a person except for alimony cheques and Christmas presents, and birthday gifts when he’d remembered.
Despite all that she had turned into a fine young woman. Or was it because of his absence that she had done so well?