Stiletto Safari (11 page)

“Hey, Ismail; hi, Zara; so nice to meet you,” Amy said, coming over and squeezing my arm before planting a kiss on my cheek. “I’ve made us some Pimms. The others are on their way over now.”

I had no idea who the others were, but the Pimms looked refreshing, so I helped myself to a glass and went and sat on a deck chair in front of an unlit bonfire.

Amy was a talker. She was single, but madly in love. When pressed though she wouldn’t say more. She was
loving
her time in Namibia, which made me suspect that her mystery man was a fellow volunteer. I couldn’t imagine any other reason why she’d be enjoying Namibia.

We were joined by Henrietta and Sam, two of the wildlife volunteers. While Henrietta greeted Amy warmly, she barely acknowledged me. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that she deliberately snubbed me.

Sam, on the other hand, was great. Like me, he was in Africa because he was at loose ends. His girlfriend had dumped him for his best friend—ouch!—and he hated his job. He was a detective at Scotland Yard in the violent crimes unit, which sounded totally full on.

Due to his cop background, he was also in charge of overall security for the volunteer camp, the lodge, the village, and the surrounding land. I was shocked to hear that poachers were a real problem. In the past six months they had killed two rare rhinos and a number of antelopes. They had also managed to break into the lodge. Robbery seemed to be the motive. According to Sam, I was not to walk anywhere by myself at night—if the wildlife didn’t get me, the poachers probably would!

Aside from freaking me out a little with poacher talk, Sam was fun to chat to. He didn’t seem to take himself too seriously and had lots of interesting anecdotes. He’d traveled everywhere and genuinely seemed to love animals. His dream was to open a wildlife rehabilitation center in either the U.K. or the States. If he ever came to the States, I’d have to introduce him to Sal…

As we were chatting, Hamish arrived carrying some bottles. Much to my surprise, everyone gave him an enthusiastic welcome.

Ismail slapped him on the back. “Buddy, good to see you. I didn’t think you’d make it tonight. I thought you were busy finishing off your paper.”

Hamish gave one of his annoying super-good-looking smiles. “I decided the paper could wait. Besides, I thought I’d better check up on Zara. The last time I saw her she was in a spot of bother.”

Mortified at the mention of our last meeting, my face turned beet red. Trying to think of a tart response, I found myself temporarily tongue-tied.

Henrietta suddenly looked interested. “Why, what happened? I’m sure we’d all like to hear about it, Hamish.”

Hamish looked over at me and brushed Henrietta off. “It was just a joke, Henrietta. Nothing happened.”

Henrietta looked annoyed, but masked her annoyance well by sidling over and asking Hamish to tell her more about his paper. Clearly she had a bit of a thing for him. “I didn’t realize you and Hamish knew each other,” Sam commented.

“We don’t, actually.”

Sam gave me a quizzical look. I turned in Hamish’s direction, but Henrietta was keeping him occupied. “It’s kind of an embarrassing story. Earlier today, Hamish busted me semi-naked washing my hair under a tap in the middle of the schoolyard.”

Sam’s eyes widened before he started laughing. “You’re kidding. Why did you do that? What’s wrong with taking a shower?”

Rolling my eyes for effect, I replied, “Obviously, I didn’t know there was a shower. I relied on some local knowledge that turned out to be misguided.”

“Okay, that is embarrassing. Still, at least Hamish was there to point you in the right direction. He’s a really good guy,” Sam chuckled.

I wanted to puke. Why was everyone so delusional about Hamish? Believe me, from what I’d seen, he wasn’t that nice.

Amy shushed everyone. “I’d like to propose a toast to Zara Hamilton, our newest volunteer.”

There was a clinking of glasses. “So tell us, Zara, why are you here?” Ismail mischievously asked.

I paused for a moment, wondering whether I should make up some crap about loving wildlife or simply tell the truth. In the end I opted for the latter.

“It’s complicated! But the short version is that my life imploded when my boyfriend (now ex-boyfriend) was accused of insider trading. I’m an M&A lawyer, and one of the stocks Nick traded in was connected to a transaction I was working on. The law firm where I worked flipped out and jumped to the conclusion that I must have given him the information. Of course I didn’t and I was cleared of any wrongdoing, but the firm decided I should take a leave of absence for six months. I think they were just embarrassed to have me around. So here I am, as far away from New York, the press, and hopefully trouble as possible.”

Ismail let out an impressed whistle. “Wow, that is complicated. And also a bloody good story. You beat the rest of us hands down. I’m only here because I’m stalking Amy.”

Amy pushed him playfully on the arm. “I knew it! You followed me all the way from London.”

“Just kidding, of course,” added Ismail before continuing in a more somber tone, “I’m actually here because my father recently passed away after a long illness, and I wanted to give something back because a lot of people cared for him while he was sick. And as it turns out, it’s lucky I’m here to patch up all Zara’s students.”

Everyone gave me searching looks. “Well, just one student, and it was totally an accident. So is it true, Ismail, that you let Gabi patch him up?” I innocently asked.

“Ismail!” Amy hit his arm again. “I’ve told you Gabi can’t be bandaging people up. It’s bad for business!”

“What? She’s good—she’s a better bandager than you or me,” Ismail retorted.

Their banter continued back and forth like a tennis match.

“So what happened today at school?” Hamish’s voice came from right behind me as he moved around to take the seat Sam had just vacated.

“Kids being kids and me being a lousy teacher. One of the boys kicked a football into another boy’s face and all but broke his nose.”

“I can’t imagine you being lousy at anything, Zara,” Hamish evenly replied.

“Hamish, your sarcasm is killing me. You may as well say it: I’m rather hopeless at everything right now—a criminal ex, a failed job, an incompetent teacher—and, wait, I can’t even find the shower.”

Hamish looked taken aback. “I didn’t mean it like that, Zara. I was actually trying to pay you a compliment. Ismail told me what a great job you did today with the kids. I certainly couldn’t have done it. Those kids have a tough life, and if you can help them have a little fun while learning, that’s a wonderful achievement.”

“So you approve of me bribing the kids with oversized sunnies, short dresses, and high heels?” I asked incredulously.

“Whatever it takes,” Hamish replied with a grin. “In fact, I have a ridiculous hat and an ugly jacket I’d be happy to donate to your collection.”

“Excellent,” I said, almost giving Hamish a smile.

“Hamish, you never finished telling me about your paper.” Henrietta bustled over and pushed herself between us.

“It’s boring, Henrietta, and Zara and I are talking,” Hamish snapped, annoyed.

“Don’t stop on my account,” I threw over my shoulder as I hopped up. “Ismail has promised me Internet access and I need to connect with the outside world.”

Hamish jumped to his feet. “You can just use my Internet access. It’s a lot faster and my place is a two-second walk. I need to go get something anyway,” he said by way of explanation.

Henrietta was positively scowling. If looks could kill, I’d be dead and buried.

I brushed Hamish aside. “Seriously, no worries. Ismail has set me up here, so I’m fine.”

Perhaps I was imagining it, but Hamish almost looked disappointed.

Hamish’s odd behavior puzzled me…although I surmised that he was probably just desperate to shake Henrietta. She did seem persistent. Or, of course, he could just be trying to catch me doing something stupid again.

Chapter 18

I

smail and Amy shared a PC. The machine looked pretty ancient and clunky, but all I cared about was that Gmail worked.

I had ten new messages. Sal, Emi, my parents, and Nick (oddly enough) had all sent e-mails. The rest were from an assortment of retailers wanting my business—Victoria’s Secret, StrawberryNet, Ralph Lauren, Chanel, and so on.

Curious, I opened Nick’s message first:

Hi Zara, thanks for seeing me the other night. I hope you got away all right and are enjoying your time in Africa. If you get a chance, I’d love to hear how you’re doing. Nick

Nick’s e-mail was frustrating. I was sitting in the middle of nowhere because of him. Feeling angry and annoyed, I deleted his message.

Next my mum:

Hi honey, let us know how you’re going when you get a chance. Hoping you’re having a great time xx mum and dad.

I typed a quick standard daughter response before moving on to Sal’s message:

So don’t be disapproving, but I went on a date with Craig. Don’t worry, nothing happened, so my man freeze is still officially in place. It was the most bizarre date I’ve ever been on. I got all dressed up expecting the usual fancy dinner, and instead he took me to a skateboarding park and afterwards we chowed hotdogs. Surprisingly, it was a really fun night. Actually, it was the most fun I’ve ever had on a first date (but please don’t tell him that because a girl has to stay a bit mysterious). I’m tempted to see him again. What do you think? You know my man judgment is seriously impaired, but you’ve known Craig for a long time. He’s certainly not in your “hot” guy category, so maybe he’s dateable?

BTW my sources tell me Nick is going to get off with a fine. I’ll keep you posted.

E-mail me back…

Now for Emi’s message:

Gorgeous girl, are you loving Africa? I want to hear all about the volunteer experience. I’m so proud of you; it’s such a wonderful thing you’re doing.

So tell me more about JoJo. I’d love to meet her. Asha says she’s a totally hip chick. Send me pics if you have any.

Everything is going really well here. Henri and I are missing you in yoga. He has been spending a lot of time on my technique and I’m getting quite a lot better. He thinks I should train to become a yoga instructor with a view to setting up our own little studio. Doesn’t that sound romantic? We could spend half a year teaching in France and then spend the rest of our time in NY.

Can’t wait to hear your news xxxxxEmi

Conscious of the shaky Internet connection, I sent Sal and Emi a joint message:

Girls, thanks so much for your messages, I can’t tell you how good it is to hear from you. I miss you guys heaps!

Now, I have a crappy Internet connection, so I’m going to get right to the point in case I drop out.

Sal, Craig is a genuinely nice guy. He’s funny and easygoing. He’s very different than the other men you’ve dated, though, so go in with your eyes open. If you can get him into a suit or to a nice restaurant, I’ll die of amazement! Having said that, he did get you on a skateboard and snacking on hotdogs (do you know what those things have in them?)—I’m practically speechless!

Emi, why didn’t we think of that before? You’d be a fab yoga instructor! And yes, I’ll come to France to take your classes. Somewhere on the Riviera, please!

I’ll e-mail more about my trip shortly.

I composed a longer e-mail to send to my close friends’ list:

Trust your first instincts

You’ll never believe who is also staying at the volunteer camp: Hamish, the total jerk from Jo’burg (you know, the one who thinks I’m a bimbo). Of all the people I think I’ve ever met, I possibly dislike him the most. He’s just so arrogant. It’s so annoying he’s here.

I literally bumped into him this morning. It was pure humiliation—I was in pink lacy undies and a revealing cami washing my hair in the middle of the schoolyard (please don’t ask) and there he was. You should have seen how smug he looked when he pointed out the actual shower block. I just wanted the earth to swallow me up. It was so cringeful.

Now everywhere I go I see him. He’s even at this drinks thing tonight. Weirdly, he has been almost friendly—no doubt a façade. I’m going to run with my first instincts and avoid him.

So my first day was crap (sorry Emi, but I’m a pathetic volunteer). I’m now a “teacher”—crazy, I know—and within thirty seconds of me being in the classroom a boy almost broke his nose. It was gross—blood everywhere.

It gets worse: I’m also the girls’ dorm mistress, so I’m in charge of sixty girls ranging from five to about fifteen. I don’t want to stay, but I feel too guilty to leave. If I don’t stay until they’ve found a replacement, the dorm will be closed down and the girls won’t get to learn or eat. How’s that for a massive guilt trip!

While I’m here, however, I figure I should let the girls have a bit of fun. I’m thinking movie nights on my iPad and fashion shows with all the clothes I brought with me that I will never have the opportunity to wear—you should hear the ooohs and aahhs over my stilettos.

Okay, I’ve got to fly; I’ve got to be back at the dorm soon to “supervise.”

Enjoy the bright city lights for me, because there are none out here. On the upside, I should come back uberskinny and tanned.

xxxxxZ

I was about to log off when Sal replied: