Authors: Tamara Cape
NINETEEN
Kerry knew at once things were different. The bed was not where it should be. The window, through which the early morning sunlight shone, was in a new position. She sat up, her eye drawn to the chair at the foot of the bed. Chad’s clothes were draped over it. She calmed, her moment of confusion over. She was in Chad’s room . . . in Chad’s
bed
. She could hear him moving around in the bathroom. Memories of last night came flooding back. The kudu buck had brought them together in the moonlight; then their interest had switched to each other; his mouth, hands and . . . She could still feel the heat within, the warmth and dull throb from muscles unused for so long – a pleasant reminder of the heights their passion had reached. The pillow next to hers was indented where his head had lain. His scent lingered on. She found it comforting and wickedly arousing, making her want to call him and carry on from where they had left off last night.
Then her feelings began to change. With horror, she recalled that she was the one who had taken the initiative in leading him to the bed, she who had wantonly denied him nothing while exploring his body with the same intimacy.
What would he think of her now? She had acted like a cheap tart picked up in some sleazy bar. Whatever had come over her?
Well, Kerry thought, as she threw herself into her kimono and fled back to her room, it won’t happen again. She was entitled to one slip. The intimate entanglement of their lives over the past two and a half weeks had made the events of last night almost inevitable.
Now he would feel nothing for her. A moment of weakness had ensured her a place among all the rest – another name, memory, notch on his gun. His type made you believe you were special. Like skilled puppeteers they manipulated susceptible women. Commitment was avoided like a dreaded disease. They lived only for the thrill of the chase.
She’d be damned if she would allow
him
the satisfaction of ending it.
***
They called on the Danish couple before leaving the national park. While the men chatted, Camilla led Kerry out of earshot towards the river.
“Well?” Camilla
asked, an edge of excitement to her voice. “It’s happened, hasn’t it?”
“What?” Kerry knew exactly what the Dane was referring to, but it was the last thing she wanted to talk about. Her thoughts were focused on her forthcoming confrontation with Chad.
Camilla gave her a knowing look. “I can tell. Women enjoying good sex have a glow about them.” She glanced towards the men standing in the shade at the side of the lodge. “He looks so much more relaxed than when we last met.”
“Your talents are wasted – you should be a detective,” Kerry said with a wry smile. “It’s not
something I want to talk about. Chad and I have no future.” She sighed and with a heavy heart took a last look at the stunning view of the broad river. “Now, we really must go. We have a long drive ahead of us.”
“Okay, but do contact me when you’re next in
Jo’burg. We’ll have lunch, do something together.”
***
Her opportunity came while they breakfasted at the Victoria Falls Hotel, a splendidly elegant old establishment that had been a focal point in the town for decades. It had been Chad’s suggestion; his treat, he said, in recognition of her talents as a leopard spotter and, he added with a sly smile, in the bedroom.
That made what she was about to say more difficult.
In the cool interior of the hotel, Kerry picked at half a grapefruit followed by cereal. African waiters hovered, working with quiet efficiency. The hotel had an atmosphere of timelessness – it could have been the 1950s, she reflected.
Chad listened impassively as she told him of her wish –
that they maintain separate bedrooms and their relationship revert to what it had been: purely platonic – although she caught a flicker of surprise in the depths of his grey-green eyes.
“Kerry, I need your help,” he said, maintaining his impassive countenance. “My memory must be
failing. Tell me – last night, did we or didn’t we make love?”
“You know perfectly well we did.”
“And it was enjoyable, was it not?”
Kerry was suddenly aware of people at nearby tables.
“Chad –”
“I don’t recall you lying there like the proverbial sack of potatoes. In fact you pulled me to the bed.”
“Keep your voice down,” Kerry said, glancing around in embarrassment.
But he was oblivious. “Did you lead me to the bed?
” He awaited confirmation.
“I did. But –”
“So, I didn’t dream it.” He smiled suddenly. “Later, did you or didn’t you want us to continue our lovemaking on the riverbank?”
This was beginning to sound like a courtroom trial. Kerry was having none of his sardonic humour. She knew his aim was to weaken her resolve by making her look foolish.
“Chad, I’m not going to sit here and –”
“Answer please. Is it not true that despite the dangers you had to be physically restrained from marching outside without a stitch on?”
Kerry pushed her plate away. She grabbed her bag and got to her feet.
“You’ve made quite a scene,” she said, coldly glancing around. “So you deserve to face the audience alone.”
She left him, a rather sad figure, sitting staring after her.
***
“All right, I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have aired our business in public. But
why?
I think I’m entitled to know.”
He had followed her out a few minutes later. They were sitting in the car not looking at each other. Kerry
felt more inclined to talk, now that they were alone.
“We’ll be saying goodbye in a few days. I don’t want it to happen having
just left your bed. Can’t you imagine what that would do to me?”
“A quick break now is easier, less messy – right?”
“Remember the highlights: the lion episode, the charging elephant, flight over the Falls, the leopard? All one-offs, and more memorable for that –”
“So,
I’m
to be a one-off, just another highlight of the trip? My God! Kerry – I’d no idea you were so hard.”
“Rich, Chad, coming from
you
,” she accused. “The Kyalami Casanova, the king of the one-off. Why you’ve probably had more one-night stands than . . . than . . .”
Chad gave a throaty chuckle, his anger abating.
“I’ve already told you how fetching you are when your temper’s up.”
Kerry saw the crows’ feet at his eyes, the whiteness of his teeth against the deep tan of his face. Oh, why were they arguing? She just wanted to melt into his strong arms. Life was so cruel.
The South African seemed to recognize that the heat had gone out of the argument.
“All right, I’ll respect your wish,” he said in a conciliatory tone. “If that’s what you want, we’ll carry on as before.”
“No hanky-panky?”
“Scouts
’ honour. Though after last night, it won’t be easy.”
***
Kerry insisted they make one final stop before leaving Victoria Falls.
The old flyer was delighted that his suggestion had borne fruit, and apprecia
ted their returning to tell him. Chad took note of his address and promised to send him copies of the best leopard photos.
For the remainder of that day plus all of the next two, as they headed for the border and beyond, they were unusually quiet, as if recognising that the best was behind them and anything that befell them now would be an anticlimax.
Something occurred which provided Kerry with further proof of Chad Lindsay’s essential goodness and generosity of spirit. While removing the carton of paper tissues from the glove box, she came across a scrap of paper. There was writing on one side, an address in Chad’s familiar hand. And a name – an African name. It was none of her business, nevertheless she was intrigued. Finally she asked Chad about it.
He took his eyes off the road just long enough to glance at the paper.
“The widow. The ranger’s wife.”
“
You met her?”
He nodded.
“While you were in hospital.”
“
I meant to ask. What will she do? How will she cope?”
“
I wanted answers too. From what I could gather, the park authorities will fix her up with a job. In the restaurant or cleaning the lodges. Low paid work. As I feel indirectly responsible for her loss, I’ve agreed to help her financially.”
“
That is
so
good of you. Why didn’t you tell me?”
He didn
’t bother to reply, just gave a slight impersonal shrug of the shoulders.
***
To Kerry’s disappointment, Chad no longer played the teacher role expounding fact and legend concerning the wildlife, people and history of the regions through which they passed. When the South African did talk, he surprised her by asking about her personal life: family, hobbies, friends. She guessed he was just going through the motions. The process of distancing himself from her was already well advanced. The intimate small talk, humour and innuendo that lovers enjoy were gone.
Where was the strength she had thought she would gain by being the one to end it? The opposite had happened – she felt miserable. She loved this man. She knew it now with all her heart. Chad Lindsay had everything going for him: looks, charm, a refreshing honesty, plus the near certainty of a brilliant career. She was fortunate to have shared his life for a brief time span. She would not forget him, she thought sadly, nor ever find another like him.
As the Fiat hit the bumpy dirt road leading to Chad’s cottage, Kerry longed for the courage to tell him she’d made a dreadful mistake and could they please go to bed together right now. She wouldn’t even mind sharing the room with Clarence. But she couldn’t say it. She would look so damned stupid.
She had to accept that she and Chad were history. What did he care for her anyway? To him she was no more than an outlet for his physical urges. And with that now denied him he was probably planning an early meeting with one of his old flames.
Earlier, Kerry had insisted on stopping at a supermarket. Tonight would be her final opportunity to cook for him and she was determined to make a special effort. Tomorrow would be rushed and hectic. They were due at the Groblers’ farm for a barbecue. Then back to the cottage to pick up her bags before making a quick dash to the airport.
A
fter a drink to unwind, she set to work. Fish dishes were a family speciality, and preparing trout second nature to her. Although the kitchen was unfamiliar, everything went without a hitch. Kerry was pleased with the result, especially her almond garnish. Chad was lavish in his praise, his eyes rarely leaving her. Perhaps, she thought, he would miss having her around after all.
When it came time to say goodnight, her only thought was whether his promise would hold good. It was their last night under one roof and anything might happen. Her door had a lock but she chose not to use it. That was symptomatic of her ambivalence. She dreaded, yet at the same time longed for, him to appear at her door.
Chad kept his word.
Only in
the early hours, after much tossing and turning, did she fall asleep. It was a shallow slumber, punctuated by periods of wakefulness in which erotic fantasies dominated her thoughts. And the ache between her thighs threatened to engulf her completely.
TWENTY
The driveway to the farm
Sterkfontein
(Afrikaans for strong fountain or good water, according to Chad) was filled with luxury cars, long gleaming Mercs and BMWs predominating. This was no ordinary gathering – the cream of local society had assembled at this rustic setting in Northwest Province.
Kerry noted that the land was flat and monotonous, just as Anna
Grobler had described. However its richness was apparent through the green shoots of millions of maize plants given life by the season’s first rains.
The homestead disappointed Kerry. It was large and sprawling – a far cry from the old Cape Dutch home nestling among vines and fruit trees that she had imagined. She remembered they were a thousand miles from the lushness of the Cape coastal belt with its majestic mountain ranges. Here the country was very different – open, with few trees and a big sky – a land of harsh sun and unpredictable rains. It took a tough breed of men and women to prosper under such conditions – and the Boers were tough.
As they approached the house, people glanced their way and offered polite greeting. Kerry didn’t understand their language, but she knew the words were kindly meant and friendly. She was struck by how fit and healthy everyone looked. Most were under forty – the men tall, about half over six feet, and stoutly built with muscular limbs. Some were fair, some dark. Many sported moustaches. Her impression was of an almost Old Testament-like solidity, rocks around whom families rallied in times of crisis. The women too showed every sign of healthy appetites, one or two excessively so. They wore light summer dresses and stood sipping wine, chatting and laughing as women do the world over.
“Chad! Kerry!” Anna
Grobler rushed towards them from the doorway. She looked stunning in pale apricot pants and a sleeveless cream-coloured top, her blonde hair shining in the sunlight.
When planning her wardrobe for the trip, Kerry had not taken into account affairs such as this. Chad had made a point of saying there would be no social events. Not that she blamed him for Anna
’s invitation – he could not see into the future. He had been no help this morning when she was deliberating over what to wear. “It’s a
braai
, a barbecue. Suit yourself what you wear.” She had chosen black leggings, white beach shoes and zebra print cotton top. To add a little mystery she hid her eyes behind large dark shades. At first she worried what these notoriously conservative folk would think of her figure-hugging leggings, but they drew only admiring glances. Kerry could not compete in the glamour stakes with the wealthy Afrikaner beauty, yet she was happy with her appearance, given her present limited wardrobe.
“Kerry,” Anna turned to her, smiling, and they air-kissed. “You
’re well again? I was so worried when Chad told me you were in hospital.”
“It was a scare,” Kerry admitted. “But I
’m fine now. I hope I wasn’t too much of a burden to him.”
Her eyes searched her companion
’s face, but the expected rejoinder did not come. He seemed not to have heard and was staring intently at their hostess. Kerry found his behaviour puzzling.
“I
’m afraid we can’t stay long,” Kerry told Anna. “We have to get to the airport – I leave this evening.”
“Shame!
It seems like only yesterday that I picked you up at –”
“Anna,” Chad cut in impatiently. “What
’s going on? That’s an impressive looking sparkler on your finger.”
Anna gave a delighted laugh. Suddenly her face radiated happiness.
“
Ja
, it’s true. Dirk and I are to be married. That is the reason for all this.” She waved an arm around gaily.
Chad stepped forward and hugged her, giving her an affectionate kiss on the cheek.
“I knew it had to happen,” he said. “You couldn’t keep him waiting for ever.”
Kerry offered her congratulations and bent to look at the ring. It held a large solitaire diamond surrounded by a pattern of chips. The stone was indeed impressive – well in excess of a carat, she judged, and beautifully cut.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Chad demanded. “We would have brought you something more than a couple of bottles of wine.”
“What could beat that?” The Afrikaner girl laughed. “Ah, here comes Dirk. Let me introduce you, Kerry.”
A young giant approached. Topping Chad’s six two by some way, he grasped Kerry’s hand in his bear’s paw. Inwardly, she cringed, expecting her hand to be crushed. In fact his touch was surprisingly gentle.
“Dirk van
Zyl,” he said, not waiting for Anna to do the honours.
Afrikaans pronunciations interested Kerry. They were often diffe
rent to what she imagined. Dirk’s last name had come out like “Fan Sail”, emphasis on the second word. She stored it away in her mind for possible use in a story.
The four of them chatted for a few minutes. The men had met before and Chad sometimes
switched to Afrikaans for Dirk’s benefit, for Dirk was not as comfortable as Anna in English.
Kerry could not help comparing the men. Dirk was younger, but he had a bulky coarseness to his body which to some extent showed in his facial features. Chad, with his slimmer hips and more finely sculpted head, was the
better looking of the two. The former beauty queen would have had the pick of many young men, so it was safe to assume that Dirk had qualities not immediately apparent. Perhaps he was Anna’s first love, theirs a schoolroom romance that had survived the progression into adulthood and the claims of other suitors.
“Guys – look after
yourselves,” Anna instructed. “I want to talk to Kerry and show her the house.” She added with a smile, “I think she is interested in how we live out here in the sticks.”
The farmhouse lacked the cool freshness of an English home. In this season of clammy heat,
a musty warmth was all pervading. Gentle breezes stirred the torpid air outside but lacked the strength to force entry through the open windows.
In the kitchen Kerry met Anna
’s mother who was working with other women putting the finishing touches to various salads. Tomatoes, chives and avocados lay on chopping boards. Steam rose from a large bowl of baked potatoes which an African maid carried outside to tables near the barbecue area where men were gathered cooking meat over charcoal.
Anna led Kerry through a hallway into a large sitting room. Her mother called after them.
“Don’t be long. We eat soon.”
A wide bay window d
ominated the room. It looked onto a vegetable garden full of ground-hugging pumpkins, water melons and squashes. On one side stood a peach orchard; a carpet of fallen pink blossom littered the ground. On the other side was a livestock dam fed by borehole water. A scattering of prickly-pear cactus grew around the dam. Beyond it the thousands of hectares of growing maize began.
The room was furnished old-style, the design more practical than elegant. Several chairs were made of an attractive pale wood. Anna told Kerry it was African yellow-wood, now so rare and expensive it was almost impossible to obtain. The chairs had been in her family for generations. Kerry imagined the chairs and sofa being made by some Boer craftsman in bygone days.
Bookcases lined one wall. An obsolete central fireplace dominated another. Lamps and tall display cabinets filled with old china and antique bric-a-brac stood in the corners. The room looked old and timeless. Kerry doubted whether it had changed much in two or three generations.
She had been so engrossed in the view from the window and the contents of the cabinets that she had
overlooked the pictures hanging on the walls. Anna drew her attention to them now. The subject matter – African wildlife – had Kerry striding across to look.
“Chad
’s work,” Anna confirmed. “He held his first Johannesburg exhibition soon after we met. I went along out of curiosity and was impressed. I told my father . . .” The Afrikaner girl laughed. “What a stubborn man. A typical farmer – hates the city and had no interest in art. I practically had to drag him and mother to the exhibition. You can guess the rest. Having sworn that it was all a waste of time, he was immediately smitten. Ended up buying four paintings.”
Kerry smiled, seeing it clearly in her mind.
“What’s more,” Anna went on gaily. “Dad was so taken by the pictures, he told friends – men with money, who go hunting every year. Soon every painting was sold.”
“So you were a big help to the struggling artist,” Kerry said.
“That showing made his name,” Anna explained. “It drew excellent press reviews and dealers and gallery owners clamoured for more. He would have made it without the Groblers, but I’m happy we did our bit. Since those days he’s been a good friend.”
Anna motioned towards two easy chairs by the window.
“Come – time is limited and I’m anxious to hear about your trip. Did you see a leopard?”
“On the very
last
day.” Kerry recounted the highlights, one by one. It had been the holiday of a lifetime, she confessed, for which she owed Chad so much.
What the Afrikaner girl said next stunned Kerry.
“He thinks the world of you, you know.”
“What?” Kerry was too shocked to offer a more in
telligent reply. How ridiculous. Anna had not heard the arguments or felt the coldness and tension between them.
“He almost skipped the chance to meet the Arab because of you. He was against returning to
Jo’burg. It needed all my powers of persuasion to convince him that tick-bite fever wasn’t going to kill you. I’ve never seen him more agitated and upset. While he was in the hotel suite discussing the deal, I was in the lobby under orders to phone the top florists in town.”
“The
proteas were beautiful, thank you,” Kerry said in a small voice. After a moment’s thought she went on. “I’m sure you’re mistaken. We had fun, but there was friction too. You, better than I, know what he’s like. When I’m gone, he’ll be up to his old ways in no time.”
The South African slowly shook her head, her honey-blonde hair trailing across her shoulders. She sat forward her gaze fixed on Kerry.
“That same day I gave him other messages from his answer-phone. Some from women I know he’s been involved with. He tore up the paper right before my eyes.” Anna’s lips parted into a lovely smile. “Knowing him as I do, I’d say . . . I’m sure he’s in love.”
“No
way!” Kerry blustered, feeling her face colour. “Remember your warning when we first met? He’s a confirmed bachelor whose work is everything. He uses women and never mentions the word marriage.”
“
Ja
, I spoke the truth. But a man can change – why not?”
“Anna, thank you for telling me this.
It’s pointless us arguing. Whether Chad has changed or not doesn’t really matter. In a few hours I’ll be gone –”
“Can you not extend your leave?”
“That’s impossible. In any case he’s anxious to begin painting and wouldn’t want me around. I may meet him again – I’ll be back in Jo’burg – but it’s by no means certain.”
She cut off further talk on the subject.
“Enough about Chad and me. This is your day. We’d better get outside before your friends send in a search party.”
***
Kerry ate well – plenty of salad and a large portion of
boerewors
, a delicious farm-made sausage spiced with roasted coriander seeds and ground cloves and nutmeg.
She obeyed a rule of hers to abstain from alcohol on flight days. Both alcohol and flying dehydrated the body. On the plane tonight she would drink only mineral water – the wine served with dinner she would take home.
In contrast to the party – still in full swing – they left
Sterkfontein
quietly, without fuss. Kerry had found it impossible to sustain the spirit the happy occasion demanded. The reality of this being the last day of her Southern African adventure weighed heavily with her. And Anna’s heart-to-heart talk had left her with much to ponder.
***
Back at the cottage she took a last look around as Chad carried her bags to the car. She would miss this secluded spot under the gum trees.
The South African watched her. He was ready.
“Where’s Clarence?” she asked.
“There’
s a chair he likes to rest under. Want to say goodbye?”
Kerry nodded. It seemed a crazy thing to do. More likely it was a clear indication of her reluctance to leave
.
The small snake went into his usual routine when disturbed – coiling defensively, his scales rubbing together making a fair impression of a scary hiss.
“Ideal pet,” Chad said fondly. “A quail egg a month and he scares the hell out of any unwelcome guest.”
“As I know to my cost,” she reminded him.
She could delay her departure no longer. Better to say goodbye now rather than under public gaze at the airport.
He had anticipated her move. When she stepped towards him, he closed the gap and hugged her.
His clothing smelt faintly of wood smoke from the barbecue. She felt the solid warmth of his body against hers.