A Wedding in Africa (The Africa Series) (11 page)

Thankfully, the glimmering bronze material, and that sparkly belt, provided all the glitz and glamour she would need to see herself through the event. She would look stylish, but without drawing attention to herself. This party belonged to Tate and Tilly. She was just tagging along for the ride. Best not forget that fact!

Nervously, she pushed open the door of the changing area and stepped into the main room where Tate was waiting patiently in the chair. He sat up when she appeared and gasped.

‘You look… hell! What can I say? You look absolutely stunning, Lacey. Stunning! Really, really stunning.’

And she did. So much so that Tate could hardly believe his eyes. The dress was made for her. It suited her fabulous figure, enhanced her glorious coppery hair – and transformed her into the most exquisite creature he had ever laid eyes on. How the hell was he going to escort her all the way to a party and back looking like that? It was more than any man could be expected to bear!

Nearby, the three girls cooed and murmured their appreciation. It wasn’t often that they got to see clothes from the collections worn with such panache. They glanced at each other, their smiles a mixture of admiration and just a touch of envy.

Swiftly, the head sales assistant recovered her composure as she approached Lacey with a genuine smile. ‘You look quite perfect, Madam. The dress is exactly right for your figure and your colouring. It makes you look beautiful. And I’m quite sure that your fiancé here will be the first to agree.’

In a flash, slate-grey locked with shining emeralds as Tate’s and Lacey’s eyes met. Both moved their lips to protest, to correct the girl’s innocent mistake, but neither one uttered a word. For one precious moment, it was as if they were completely alone in a world of their own. Lost in their thoughts. Their dreams.

And in that warm, hazy world, a single question hovered silently in the air between them. Both were thinking it - and both wanted to know the answer.

What if it were true…?
CHAPTER SEVEN

Lacey was hunting in the back of her car, looking for some paperwork she’d lost earlier. It was almost lunchtime and she’d been so keen to finish the chapter in her book she’d missed breakfast. Now she was starving. It was Nandi’s day off, so she and Tate would have to fend for themselves. Nandi had left fresh bread, ham and cheese, with a huge bowl of Matshana’s home grown fruit salad, so that they could help themselves. Even when she wasn’t working, Nandi made sure that the
Nkosi’s
needs were met.

‘Hey there!’

Lacey jumped as Tate called out to her. She wriggled out of the back of the car clutching a file full of notes. ‘Hang on one second! Phew! Sorry about that. I’ve been hunting for this lot all morning.’

Tate smiled, delighted to have been given a glimpse of a pert little rump clad in a pair of tight denim shorts. ‘You know Thomas, don’t you?’ he said, pausing to catch his breath as she seductively extricated herself from the vehicle.

‘I do indeed,’ Lacey replied, nodding at the gangly African standing before her. ‘I see you around here a lot, Thomas. You seem to spend every waking hour working.’

‘There is much to do, Madam,’ said Thomas.

‘You can say that again, buddy!’ Tate gave Thomas a hearty slap on the back as Thomas beamed with pride. ‘And this guy is exactly the man to get things done. I’d be lost without him. Now get yourself back to the village, Thomas, and get some food inside you. I need you charged up and raring to go when you get back.’

‘I am already charged up,
sah
. I am like the bull elephant – strong and willing to work!’

Tate burst out laughing. ‘Nicely put, Thomas. But even the mighty bull elephant has to eat once in a while. So go and take a break and get yourself some grub. I’ll see you later.’

‘Can I give you a lift to the village, Thomas?’ Lacey asked. ‘That would be very kind, Madam. But it will be too much trouble for you. I am happy to walk.’

 

‘It’s no trouble at all. Besides, I’d love to see the village where Nandi and Themba live. I’ve got my keys right here. Jump in.’

Thomas folded his long legs into the passenger seat and grinned at Lacey. He was clearly chuffed to be getting a ride home – and in a smart BMW, too. His chocolate-brown eyes were bright against his ebony skin, and there were laughter lines etched lightly into his face. As with all the people who worked at Matshana, Lacey was charmed by the warmth of his personality.

‘So how far is the village?’ Lacey asked, swinging the vehicle out of the estate and on to the main Mpumalanga Road.

 

‘It is an hour’s walk, Madam.’

Even though most Africans walked long distances to work, Lacey was surprised. ‘An hour each way? And that’s on top of the day’s work you do at Matshana. You must be exhausted.’

Thomas shook his head so vigorously that Lacey wondered whether his teeth might rattle in his head! ‘I am strong and fit, Madam. And I like to walk. We all do. Most days we sing while we walk together. It is very good.’

Lacey could picture the scene. The sight of Africans swaying and singing as they walked along the roadsides was one of the nation’s most endearing images. And she often saw Thomas and the other Matshana estate workers happily going to and fro their business. Even so, she knew that Tate expected a lot from his workers, and she wondered how Thomas managed to cope with all the extra hours.

‘I often see you and Nandi at Matshana long before your shift starts – some of the other workers, too,’ she said, tentatively. ‘And I’ve seen you there hours after your day has finished.’

Thomas turned to her, his mouth stretched open in a smile so wide that it revealed both rows of gleaming white teeth at the same time. ‘We are all very busy, Madam.’

‘Thomas…?’ Lacey interjected. ‘Is there any point at all in my asking you to call me Lacey?’

‘No, but thank you, Madam.’ Thomas stared at her with kindly eyes, before breezily continuing where he’d left off. ‘The lodges are almost finished, but there is still much work to be done. We must make quite sure that they are finished to the
Nkosi’s
high standards. His guests are going to be very rich people, indeed. They will expect only the very best when they come to stay at Matshana.’

‘I’m quite sure they will,’ Lacey responded with just a trace of sarcasm. ‘And, of course, the richer the guests, the richer the
Nkosi
will become.’ ‘That is exactly right, Madam. The
Nkosi
tells us that the lodges are going to make him lots and lots of money.’

 

‘And that’s a
good
thing, is it, Thomas?’

‘Oh yes indeed, Madam. We are all hoping that the lodges bring in plenty of money. It will help all those who live here in the Sabie Valley – the wildlife, too. We are all going to benefit from the
Nkosi’s
great plans.’

Lacey failed to see how adding to Tate’s immense bank balance was going to help people like Thomas, but she bit back the urge to quibble. Thomas seemed so proud of the work he was doing on the lodges, and so utterly devoted to his employer, that Lacey didn’t want to be the one to burst his bubble. And he was such a lovely man that she simply couldn’t bear to see that joyful expression wiped off his face and the light in his eyes dimmed. Instead, they chatted amiably about other things until the village entrance came into view at the side of the road.

The village, or
kraal
, was set well back from the road, nestling amid woodland of leafy acacia and marula trees. Lacey was delighted to see to see that it had been built in the traditional Zulu fashion with a large outer palisade of interlocked thorn trunks, and then a smaller palisade inside the main ring for their precious cattle. The
kraal
was built on a slope so that the rainwater could wash through the cattle pens and keep them clean, while making sure that the thatched huts remained dry and secure.

Lacey pulled up just outside the main entrance. She and Thomas climbed out of the vehicle to be greeted by boisterous gaggle of giggling children, dogs and squawking chickens. Followed by this noisy entourage, they made their way through a neat assortment of dwellings until they reached Thomas’ home.

‘This style of hut is called an
iQukwane
.’ said Thomas, proudly gesturing to the pretty beehive-style structure with its thatched, conical roof. ‘The women bind and thatch the roof using braided split reeds and grass.’

‘It’s wonderful, Thomas. It’s a typical home in a typical African
kraal
. Amazing! And your floor is a mixture of dung and termite mound if I’m not mistaken?’

Thomas nodded, surprised by her knowledge of Zulu life and customs. ‘It sets very hard. See?’ Thomas stamped on the floor just beyond the front entrance to illustrate his point. ‘Nandi has polished her floor so much that it shines like a mirror. She is very, very fussy about her home.’

‘I’m sure she is. She sets the same high standards at Matshana. Where is Nandi’s
iQukwane
? I’m dying to see it.’

 

‘Over there, Madam, through the trees. I will take you to it.’

Thomas and Lacey had barely crossed the top curve of the
kraal
when they were assaulted by Themba, who came hurtling out of the trees towards them before jumping straight into Thomas’ arms.

‘
Baba
! You are home!’

Thomas swung the boy on to his shoulders and made his way towards a big, beautiful rondavel. It had been built beneath the shade of a marula tree, and painted in vivid African colours. Nandi ducked out of the small doorway, plonked her hands on her hips and literally roared with laughter when she spotted Lacey standing there.

‘Oh my! Oh, Miss Lacey!’ she cried, still chuckling loudly. ‘You have come to visit me here in my home. This is a great honour, Miss Lacey. A very great honour.’

Lacey stepped forward to be enfolded in a huge Nandi-style hug. Not to be outdone, Themba hopped down from Thomas’ shoulders and ran over to wrap his little arms around Lacey’s knees. Thomas stood by, grinning hopelessly.

‘Do not just stand there, Thomas man. Fetch a pumpkin. And some tomatoes. Unless I am very much mistaken, Miss Lacey will not have had time to eat lunch.’

‘You are not mistaken, Nandi. And I’m starving.’

 

‘We have beef and
phutu
. This is a crumbly maize porridge, which we will eat hot with boiled
madumbes
.’

 

‘I love
madumbes
. They taste like sweet potatoes. Sounds yummy. I’m glad I came.’

 

‘And we are glad you came, too. Are we not, Thomas?’

Thomas stood beside Nandi and looked down at her fondly. Just for a moment, the two of them seemed to get lost in each other’s eyes. But then, almost as quickly, the moment passed and Thomas went to find a chair for Lacey.

‘We will sit outside to eat,’ Nandi said, still watching Thomas with a smile playing on her lips. ‘Then we can listen to the birdsong while the food is cooking.’

Lacey sat on the teak chair that Thomas plonked on the floor beside her. She ran her hand over its smooth, polished edges. ‘This is a beautiful piece of furniture. Is it handmade?’

‘Thomas made it,’ Nandi said, her eyes glowing with pride. ‘He is a great craftsman. He made all the furniture inside my home.’

Thomas bowed his head modestly and added another wattle log to the fire. It spat and sparkled as the flames took hold. ‘Nandi’s home must be as good as the one that belonged to the great Zulu queen who is her namesake,’ he said, settling himself on the log beside Nandi. ‘And it is my job to make sure that it is.’

Quietly, gently, Nandi placed her hand on Thomas’ arm. ‘You
have
made sure of that. Thanks to you, I have a lovely home here. You are a good man, Thomas.’

Keen to be a part of the action, Themba squashed his little backside into the space between them then wriggled his bottom backwards until it was firmly locked in place. Both Thomas and Nandi laughed at the intrusion, and Thomas ruffled the lad’s hair affectionately.

Suddenly, without a shadow of a doubt, Lacey realised that Thomas and Nandi were a couple. She could tell that by the way they looked at each other, their eyes alight with tenderness, their bodies close, but still maintaining a respectful distance in accordance with their strict Zulu etiquette.

And what a marvellous couple they made. With their colourful beaded necklaces and wristbands, their glorious traditional clothing and their ancient, warrior history dating back to the mighty King Shaka, Thomas and Nandi were Zulu in the very finest sense of the word.

But what about little Themba? Lacey couldn’t help wondering how Thomas felt about bringing up another man’s son – a white man’s son to boot. But one glance at the lad sitting between them on the log, chattering non-stop to Thomas, who patiently answered his questions and showed a great interest in everything he did, Lacey had every reason to think that Thomas considered it an honour to be a father to the child.

If only his real father, Tate Maddox, felt the same!
After enjoying a couple of tranquil hours in the sunshine, eating traditional African food served in the time-honoured way, Lacey was surprised when both Thomas and Nandi started getting ready to go back to work.

‘But today’s your day off, Nandi. Why do you need to go to Matshana on your day off?’

‘There is much work for us to do there, Miss Lacey. The lodges are almost ready to receive the guests. We cannot afford to fall behind with the
Nkosi’s
timetable.’

‘And you, Thomas? Do you have to go back and work on the lodges as well?’

 

Thomas nodded as he unravelled his sleek, long limbs and stood up. ‘We all have much work to do. We must help the
Nkosi
whenever we can.’

Lacey felt her blood boil. These poor people must be exhausted and yet Tate expected them to trudge for over an hour to get back and start working on his wretched lodges. He really was insufferably selfish with his greed and his willingness to use anyone and everyone in order to satisfy his ambitions.

Rather like Mortimer, Lacey decided ruefully.

Needless to say, in the face of two very happy people, and one excitable young boy, Lacey kept her cynicism to herself. But she would definitely have to say something to Tate when she got back to Matshana. She really couldn’t just sit back and watch people being exploited in this way without doing or saying anything to help them.