Jackal's Dance (27 page)

Their cool boxes contained a wide selection. Beers proved popular, though Johan and Henneke opted for lemonade, Kalila asked for mineral water and Gayle a gin and tonic. The nervous among them soon relaxed, caught up by the sensation of being somewhere so different, by the absolute silence and an expectation of watching wild animals come in to drink unaware of being observed. Wildest Africa spun her magic and even those used to her spell became awed by it. Their voices were strangely subdued as the sun, a huge red orb made ghostly in the dust-laden air, sank towards the horizon.

Gayle was especially impressed. ‘I've never seen the sun look so big,' she whispered to Matt. ‘It's gorgeous.'

Fletch and Caitlin stood side by side. In the soft glow of sunset the deep red of his hair and the paler apricot of Caitlin's made them appear as bronze statues.

Drinks finished, it was time to head for the hide. ‘No smoking and no talking,' Caitlin instructed. ‘When we get inside, find a seat, sit down quickly and keep still. Okay, everyone, let's go.' She opened a reed gate in the flimsy barricade.

The path was narrow, only wide enough for two to walk abreast. Black rubber matting had been laid along it to deaden any sounds. Dan went first, leaving the rest of them to follow. Caitlin brought up the rear. The high walls on either side
created a tunnel effect. Five minutes brought them to a sturdy wooden door. Beyond it, the path dropped underground into a short, cement-rendered passageway, which led through a second door to the hide itself. They came out into a semicircular room with benches and a narrow shelf in front of an uninterrupted observation slit which ran the full radius of the room and through which the waterhole was clearly visible. The open window was about half a metre above the ground. An overhanging of thatch ensured that the observers were very well hidden.

The waterhole snugged into one edge of the pan. Tall reeds obliterated any view south but other directions lay open and the expanse of Natukana, tiny by comparison with Etosha, stretched away to the west where the sun was already a purple-pink memory.

They settled down to see what early evening would bring. Seventeen very diverse human beings waiting, with thoughts as different as their backgrounds and appearances.

Chester, at one end of the hide, was re-evaluating his chances with Kalila. Sitting next to him and acutely conscious of the warmth of his body, Kalila was fighting a moral battle. She was losing, and happy not to care. Her boyfriend was a long way away. Chester was the most attractive man she'd ever met. Khaki-fever was approaching the acute stage.

Megan, sandwiched between the Zulu girl and Troy, worried about what had got into Angela. Troy
was also thinking about Angela but his thoughts were at a more basic level. Fletch had Caitlin on his mind. Beside him, she focused her binoculars on a distant bateleur eagle, completely unaware of the effect that her proximity was having on the good-looking, red-haired student.

Walter Schmidt sat staring ahead, sourly reflecting that the bench was designed for thin people. He'd never sat on anything so uncomfortable in his life. Jutta, who had squeezed between her father and Matt, secretly revelled in the fact that the actor's shoulder, hip and knee were touching hers.

Matt's thoughts had taken off on a tangent. He was trying to recall an elusive line of dialogue from a play he'd auditioned for, hoping his agent would have good news on his return to London. Gayle was wondering when they'd be offered another drink and worrying about the effect wind would have on her skin in the open-backed Land Rover.

Johan, who had deliberately placed himself between the actress and his wife, was still smarting over Gayle's criticism of his English. He'd like to see the damned woman attempt Afrikaans. Henneke was away with the fairies. Or, to be more precise, she was straddling a very naked and aroused Matt Grandville. Sitting two places away from her, Matt would have been astonished had he been able to share the plain and pudgy woman's mental gymnastics.

Felicity found herself next to Henneke.

I have come to sit and stare and, guess what folks, there's nothing there
.

She thought briefly of The Turd cosily ensconced with his secretary and hoped like hell that Fido had wrought havoc with the bloody woman's Siamese.

Philip remembered suddenly that he'd forgotten to sign a new two-book contract before leaving Australia. That would delay his royalty advance, annoying since he had a big tax bill coming up and this trip had been a bit of unnecessary extravagance.

Dan, on the other hand, was wondering where to go for his four-week break. He quite liked the idea of looking up Norman Snelling, if the man was still alive, then travelling south to visit his brother and sister to meet their families. He'd left a reunion with his parents too late. Both were dead now, never having seen their runaway son since he left home just over forty years ago. Where had the time gone?

James, nervous because Mal was right next to him, was thinking,
They'll guess.

Mal's thoughts were thousands of kilometres away in New York. He hoped their cat was not pining.

A breaking branch nearby refocused everyone's attention. Elephant. For the next thirty minutes, until it was too dark to see, visitors and rangers alike sat enthralled by their own private grand march from
Aida.
Four elephant, numerous zebra, wildebeest, kudu, jackal, giraffe, warthog, three lion, two hyena and one porcupine put in an appearance. Birds of all description came and went,
among them a male kori bustard courting a female. He inflated his neck, dropped and spread both wings until they reached the ground, then tilted his head back, allowing it to touch the tip of his raised tail. Despite an impressive display, the female – all ten kilograms of her – with a short pre-flight run, took to the air and disappeared from view, leaving him to pursue a solitary and sedate search for food. Some animals seemed bolder than others. All arrived to drink then depart and do whatever it was that occupied the hours of darkness.

When it became too dark to see any more the group rose quietly and left, not one of them untouched by what they'd seen. The hide was so well camouflaged they might have been invisible. Although the viewing time had been short, all agreed it had been more special than sitting by a floodlit waterhole where animals were aware of their presence.

On the way back to the vehicles, Kalila felt Chester's hand brush against hers. Was it deliberate? She shivered.

‘Cold?' he asked.

‘Yes,' she lied.

‘Sit in the front with me. It'll be warmer.'

Sean was not a happy man. Erica Schmidt had cornered him, and because it was part of his job, he'd been forced to sit with her for the best part of an hour while she told him exactly what was wrong with Logans Island. She had some very precise ideas. All viewing should be done from behind the
safety of shatterproof glass. The island needed an electrified game-proof fence right around it, not just protecting the lodge itself. Food should be à la carte, not table d'hôte. Rangers must carry a firearm at all times. King-sized beds were preferable to queen-sized. The bungalows needed bar fridges. On and on went the endless list of complaints. Sean was a people-person who normally got along with others, but Mrs Schmidt defeated even his easygoing nature. He had tried humour. Erica had none. He attempted to explain why the lodge was deliberately kept as ethnic as possible. She didn't want to know. Growing more desperate by the minute, Sean's defence turned to attack, saying that most guests visiting Etosha came to see animals, not to experience five-star, all creature comfort accommodation. Erica disagreed. Sean switched to charm. The woman was impervious. Throwing caution to the wind, he finally said that some people would always be unsuited to the bush.

‘Are you telling me I shouldn't be here?' Erica's heavy brows expressed disapproval.

‘No, no, of course not. What I meant was a sophisticated woman such as yourself may well expect more luxury.'

Anger darkened Erica's face.

‘I mean, you must be used to more . . . er . . . luxury.' Sean had reached desperation point. There was only one thing left. ‘I'm sorry if you don't like it here.'

Unexpectedly, the apology worked. She smiled
briefly. ‘That is what I try to tell you. How to make it better.'

‘Yes . . . and thank you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to see to the generator.' Sean made his escape wondering how anybody could be such a moaning misery-guts.

On his way past the office Sean heard Billy and Thea having a full-scale row. He hurried on but not before hearing Billy's shouted, ‘I don't care, Thea, I don't want a child,' and her tearful, ‘You're going to have one, whether you like it or not.'

Sean didn't catch more but anger boiled within him against the lodge manager. God, he was thinking, powerless to help Thea.
If it were my baby I'd be over the moon.

The response Sean didn't hear was the death knell for the Abbots' brief union.

‘I didn't want to have this conversation right now, but since you're forcing it, we might as well get it over and done with. I've been doing some thinking. It's not working out between us. I thought I loved you but I don't. There's nothing I can do about that. So here's what we do. Go to Windhoek, resign and go our separate ways. The baby's all yours, I'll have nothing to do with it. Don't expect financial support, you won't get anything from me. This pregnancy was your idea. I'll pay for an airfare to London but no more. End of story. Now get out of my office.'

The generator needed no adjustment but Sean decided to clean the battery terminals. He was busy with that when Thea found him. She was
shaking and crying but it was the completely shattered look on her face that affected him most deeply. If Billy had been anywhere near at that moment Sean would probably have killed him. He took one look at her and held out his arms. She went into them as though she'd been doing it all her life. Sean held her in silence while she sobbed against his chest, terribly afraid that his feelings for her would burst from him. He was helpless against his need to comfort her.

It was Thea who broke the contact. ‘Sorry.' Her voice, raised against the generator's incessant beat, sounded croaky and strained. She stood in front of him, arms limp by her sides, head down, trembling like a frightened puppy. ‘I . . . sorry,' she repeated. ‘I shouldn't . . .'

Sean shook his head, his own tears not far from the surface. ‘Come.'

Thea allowed herself to be led outside, away from the noise. She spoke more clearly. ‘Billy doesn't love me. I don't think he ever did. He only married me to get this job. Now he's told me to get out of his life.'

Sean took her in his arms again. He felt the hot wetness of fresh tears soaking through his shirt. ‘You're in no state to be on your own. Come with me.'

She went with him obediently, blindly, stumbling slightly. He'd have put a protective arm around her but knew she wouldn't want anyone to see them like that. Thea was crying hard by the time they reached his room. Sean kicked the door
shut and they sat, side by side, on his bed. She leaned against him. ‘I don't know what to do.'

Away from any possible public scrutiny, Sean pulled her close. She needed comforting, he told himself. But he was powerless to stop his other hand coming around to fondle her head and hold it close into his neck. Nor could he prevent the soft kiss on her hair. There were tremors of fear, humiliation and pain running through her. However time healed her hurting, for now, Thea's pain was raw and needed the reassuring presence of someone who cared. Slowly, the sobbing subsided but still he held her, his fingers stroking her head and neck.

After some time, Sean had no idea how long, he realised that she had gone very still. ‘Thea?'

Her tear-stained face looked up at him. They were only centimetres apart. ‘What can I do?' she whispered.

Their eyes were locked. The message in hers a desperate cry for deliverance from the hell she was in. Sean knew she wasn't thinking rationally. He could not hold in his groan of despair. He shouldn't kiss her. But she was in his arms, and for the life of him, Sean was only flesh and blood. He lowered his lips to hers.

Thea clung to him as if he were a lifeline. Not one corner of her mind, not one fleeting thought, said no. She was blindly reaching out for human contact. Instinctively, Thea knew that Sean was on her side. That was enough.

The kiss said it all. If either of them had broken contact at that stage, nothing more would have
happened. But Thea gave one small sob, a tiny cry. Sean felt her lips move, he responded, and their contact intensified.

Neither of them held back. Sean's need of her and Thea's desperation for reassurance escalated out of control. They tore at each other's clothes with an urgency that defied common sense. To hell with any condom. Each, for their own private reason, had to have this absolute contact. It had nothing to do with love-making. One needed to take, the other, just as desperately, needed to give. Too much emotion in too short a time drove them to a state that transcended desire. They were animals, obeying and not questioning their instincts.

Neither of them had any idea how long their coupling lasted. They climaxed together, Sean calling her name and Thea groaning softly with sweet relief. Sean was still inside her, still moving gently, when reason returned to both of them. Thea was first to react.

‘My God! What are we doing?'

Sean rolled off her immediately. ‘Thea! I'm sorry. I . . . I didn't mean that to happen.'

‘How could we?' Her eyes, wide, stared at him. Shock and self-loathing chased her earlier agony away.

‘It just did. Don't feel bad. Please. It's my fault, not yours.' Sean was babbling in an effort to lessen her remorse. ‘You were upset. I was trying to . . . It just got out of hand.'