Binstead's Safari (10 page)

*

In the evening, after dinner, they played bridge. Ian kept yawning, almost as much as he had the night before, but wouldn't give up. He said that only on this safari had he learned to enjoy cards.

“Never had the time before. It's always been such an awful bore to have to entertain the clients after a hard day's work. It's grand to be able to put one's feet up, not
have to go beating round the district for dirty great trophies. I often think if I were entering the profession now as a young chap, I'd only allow cameras, like everyone else. I suppose it'll come to that.”

“Like Gregor Mandrake?” Millie asked.

“Who?”

“The fashion photographer. I read someplace, he was out here last year. He's famous.”

“Is that the fellow's name? It doesn't surprise me. You're seriously asking if I—”

“I was joking, Ian.”

“I should hope so. Frightful charlatan. Tom thought the world of him, wanted to be a cameraman for a while.”

“It couldn't be real,” Stan said. “It's got to be made up, a name like that.”

Millie said, “You once told me everything important was made up.”

“You keep resuscitating all my star quotations. I hardly remember any of them.”

“Ah, that's a habit wives have,” Ian said. “I've noticed that myself.”

Alistair looked in on them a few days later. He'd seen Nicholas, was bringing a letter from him, and also had two scandalous stories to relate.

“Now that is kind,” Pippa told him. “How should we ever know about the latest news if you didn't take pity on us? And two of them.”

The first story was about the accident in the game park, which had taken place just before the death of the German nurse.

“The man who jumped out of the car,” Stan said, “and the lion on the roof got him.”

“That's the one. It seems now that they pushed him out.
Two of the men are under arrest. They don't know what to do with the wife: charge her with complicity, or let her go. She's still a free woman, the last I heard.”

“Two men,” Ian repeated.

“What a feast,” Pippa said appreciatively. “Were they both having an affair with the woman, or has money been changing hands? Definitely one of the best we've had.”

“The other one's not so much a scandal as an outrage. More our line of country. Some poacher with his musket pointed it up in the air and fired at the London balloon—Freeman and the New Zealander, Pembroke. It's a miracle they're alive.”

“Good Lord,” Ian said. “He brought them down?”

“Down with a thump. Pembroke's got a broken leg, arm, and crushed ribs. I couldn't remember his name at the time and I was in such a rush, I told matron he was called Mr Bonebroke. She's going to be dining out on that one for years.”

“Outrage is putting it mildly. I can't understand it, except out of sheer malice.”

Stan said, “Maybe he thought they were looking for poachers instead of counting the game.”

“What about the other one?” Pippa asked. “Freebody.”

“Freeman. That's more serious. He has a fractured skull. I thought at first his neck was broken too, but it was just the way he was lying. And blood everywhere. Something they had with them was made of glass. They both looked as if they'd been shot with the pieces. Don't they make most of those expedition articles from plastic or safety glass nowadays? It was a fine old mess, I can tell you. Picking out the bits for hours.”

Ian talked vehemently and at length about poachers until Stan changed the subject by saying, “I just
remembered, the party we went to. The night before we left town. I was talking about that accident in the game park, and then I said something about
sub
judice
and I thought everybody was going to die laughing. One of them was named Wilson, and—let me think.”

After prompting from Ian and Alistair, he brought out one more name and some descriptions. Ian said, “I don't wonder they laughed. You were talking to a judge, a magistrate, and probably defending and prosecuting counsel.”

Millie went to her tent to find her letters. She walked slowly in the bright light and smiled slightly. Alistair's driver was waiting for her. He gave her a folded envelope and she handed him the message she had already written. She asked, “Have you seen him?”

“No, I take the letters from my brother this time.”

“I haven't seen him in a long while now.”

“He was on safari, three trips.”

“I know. I'm glad he's well, but I'm very impatient to see him.”

The driver smiled. “Him too,” he said. “He never likes to wait.”

Alistair wouldn't stay for lunch. “On my rounds,” he explained. Pippa suggested that if he had the time and could manage it, he should bring that other doctor—what was her name?—oh yes, Carrol, to visit them at the Whiteacres' camp. Alistair blushed. He said he'd think about it.

“Might not be a bad idea at that. She's been a bit low lately. I think she's had some sort of quarrel with Eddie.”

“Over you-know-what?” Pippa asked, pointing up to the sky.

“I don't know,” he said shortly. “I haven't asked.”

“Well, try to bring her. We'd all like to meet her. She sounds such a nice girl.”

Millie had to run after him.

“You've forgotten,” she panted.

He turned, looked puzzled, then cried out, “Oh good heavens, how could I? Yes, of course. It's positive.”

“Don't shout.”

“I'm so sorry. Too many things to think of at once.”

“She did have a quarrel about that, didn't she? She's broken up with Eddie.”

“I, ah, well—I don't really—”

“I'm sure you'd be much better for her, Alistair. Just don't be a gentleman and stand aside. She'll think you don't care enough. You go right on in and propose. Down on one knee. Straight away.”

“I thought I'd better give her some time to think.”

“Certainly not. If you let her think about it, you don't stand a chance.”

“Really? You think not?”

“Of course not. She'll retreat into her shell for a couple of years in order to get over the Eddie business, and then she'll start looking for someone exactly like him. You just go ahead. And remember, this other thing is still my secret.”

*

Ian read most of Nicholas's letter out loud. Perhaps he read all of it. Millie had an idea that some parts had been skipped at the beginning, where there was a sentence about Jill. Nicholas described the way the shooting was going, saying that he was having great difficulty in trying to make the clients stick to their licences and not look on each day's hunt as an opportunity to outshine each
other. For Pippa's benefit he listed the various excesses and comforts of the big camp, then he gave an account of the people.

As for the Whiteacres,
he wrote,
I think they hate each other. Every day I go out with them, I remember that story about the wife who shoots her husband instead of the elephant. And the sleeping arrangements are in constant flux, as your friend Rollo would say. More than usual. The first thing that happened was that the engaged couple had some sort of quarrel. He moved in with Darleen; she had decided almost as soon as we put down stakes that Otis was never going to make her anything more than the secretary. To start off, she took comfort from Whiteacre. The wife, Bobsy, never said anything and they're still sharing a double tent. All this is so much worse out here than in town. When Darleen changed her allegiance to Bill, he asked his fiancée (Martha) to trade tents, as she was still in the double and he and Darleen were too cramped in the single. She agreed. She came to me and asked if it was understood that her
ex-fiancé
had paid for everything, because she was now on her own but intended to finish the safari—another one who might go off
half-cocked
, although maybe not. She seems much the most sensible of the lot. Showed me her engagement ring, a stone the size of my thumbnail, and said to the best of her knowledge if engagements were broken for whatever reason, the ring remained the property of the woman and she might just go round the world on her diamond to make up for the way things had turned out. She also said, “I'm still crazy about him, but I can see now it would never change. I'd have a lifetime of it.” The next thing was that Bobsy Whiteacre in an extremely discreet manner made me a proposition, if that's the word. Perhaps not. I've been so bothered about Jill and the farm that I wasn't taking in much of the finer detail. A few scenes of the farce may have slipped by without my noticing. However, I pleaded ignorant and now Bert has been turned down by Martha and in revenge is after me to boot her out of the team. I hope you're following all this. And at some point
Bill changed his mind and thought he'd go back to Martha, who said no. That left him still sharing the double tent with Darleen. It's been like musical chairs ever since. What we need is someone like H. Lewis to go through the place like a dose of salts—you remember what they said about the Janson show. I had a letter from him last week, says he's getting married again. Can you believe it? She has to get a divorce first. We'll see him as soon as he's done with the next set of clients. In the meantime, the extra man the Whiteacres found is supposed to be seconded to Bill and Martha. Named Bean. I've seen him about. Used to be with B & C down on the coast. On the sauce, frequently all but afloat on a tide of it. Whether his job is going to include Bobsy Whiteacre or Darleen, or even both, is anyone's guess. He doesn't look up to it. Seems struck on Martha, but she's had enough. She plays cards with me and old Otis, who tells us about doing the tours in Norway back in the year dot, climbing over the mountains and meeting Henrik Ibsen, so he claims. A nice old boy. He says he plans to leave us soon, but has enjoyed everything immensely
AND WILL RECOMMEND US WARMLY TO EVERYONE
HE KNOWS
.
I'm not sleeping very well. If you can manage to join us sooner rather than later, I'd be grateful. Thank you again for everything. As ever, Nick.

“That's it,” Ian said. “Poor old Nick.”

Millie said, “What was the Janson show?”

“A monumental package-holiday company that used to run booze-up tours for millionaires. All the ladies wanted to try out the tame hero, started to quarrel over him. He put it to them that, ah, he could either take them on all at once, or they could do it by rota.”

“And?”

“They drew up a schedule, whose turn was when. So the story goes. He said it wasn't true. Fancy Harry getting married.”

“Best thing for him,” Pippa said. “Just what he needs.
Everyone needs a family. I keep thinking about those poor men in the balloon, shot out of the sky like that.”

“You see? I told you they weren't safe. Anything can happen.”

Stan said, “What does B & C stand for? And that other one with initials?”

“Oh, it's the same one. We just call it G & T for a laugh. Referring to the sort of client they get, sort of safari they run. Sitting about in camp, drinking gin and tonic.”

“And not always such a bad idea,” Pippa said.

*

Stan had a dream. He dreamt that he was in a jungle at night. The thick-growing trees were slung with creepers and looked like the background to the Tarzan movies of his youth, but he knew that they were in the East and that he was in the war. Other men, soldiers, were crowding up in back of him. They were all in the army together. A man came out from behind a trunk just ahead: his brother, Sandy, who said, “Where were you? I've been waiting for you.” His brother was dark, like an African. Stan thought that he had changed into a Negro, then he realized that it was just camouflage blacking. There were fires and detonations in front of them. Whenever one of the explosions came, the glare lit up the night trees so you could see they were actually green. People kept moving forward on their bellies all around him. Suddenly there was a stillness. Then Sandy brought his hand chopping down hard on the back of Stan's neck. He said, “It's your turn now.” There was a white burst of light that covered everything. Stan felt his head snatched back into the night. His body jumped together. He was wiped away, he died. And then he was awake, his chest fluttering as if his heart
were spilling out over it, and warmth falling away from him in rivulets like the seawater off a rock.

Millie too had a dream, at the time when the deepest part of the darkness was about to thin out and lift. She dreamt that she was being married. She was standing next to Henry, holding his hand. She had on a long white dress and the necklace he had given her. All around them their wedding guests were dancing in a circle. The people went so fast that they melted into each other, blending like paints that ran together. Henry said, “From the first moment I saw you.” She died for joy.

*

Early in the morning they were climbing over each other in the small tent to find their clothes and Millie said, “You've stepped on my alligator. And I can't find the boa constrictor.”

“Wait till I'm awake, will you?”

“Paintings, Stan. Move your foot.”

“I don't know what you think you're proving, Millie. I'm having wet dreams now. This is ridiculous.”

“I don't see why. For years you don't want me for anything but the shopping and the cooking. Now I want a divorce and suddenly you want bed. That's the ridiculous part.”

“You don't really, do you? You want a divorce?”

“Yes, Stan. I do. Pick up your foot, please.”

“Oh, the hell with that. Look, we'll talk about it.”

“Whenever you like.”

“We'll talk about it later.”

Millie smiled. She said, “Sure. Just remember, when you've left it too late, I've already done my talking.”