“You have a cellphone?” Kate was surprised.
Thaalu laughed, a wonderful, deep sound. “I keep making you astonished, don’t I? First I am taller and less wrinkled and now I have a cellphone. Yes, drawing on caves to communicate takes too long these days especially if a person’s life is in danger.” He handed her a piece of paper with his number on it. He took her hand lightly and held it for a moment and Kate clutched him tightly and then with reluctance, let go. He walked out, closing the door carefully.
Kate wasn’t quite sure what to do with herself. The owner, in dressing gown and pyjamas, had signed her in and vanished. It felt odd, being in this place, all alone. It was well after midnight and she grabbed her bag and headed for the washroom. As she stood under the steady stream of hot water, she felt immeasurably sad and she cried for a long time.
The Sixth Night
MEANWHILE, EARLIER THAT NIGHT, the gang had set up camp in Solitaire and Jono was preparing steaks on the braai. “Or, the barbecue, as you Americans call it.” he said to a miserable Stepfan who was with him at the concrete open-air grill, the coals glowing red hot.
“We don’t barbecue much in New York,” Stepfan commented but there was hardly any energy behind his words.
Richard arrived with Mia and he handed Jono a beer.
“Thank you,” Jono said. “Did anybody try the world-famous apple pie yet?”
“Not yet,” Richard replied, “we don’t want to spoil our appetites. This is a pretty deserted spot, wouldn’t you say?”
Jono cracked open the beer, and took a long drink. “It was a refueling stop for vehicles and light aircraft, then they built some washrooms and the camping site. But the shop is a good one, lots of different things in it. Have you been in there yet?”
“Yes,” Richard waved the beer at him. “That’s where we got these and the girls immediately started shopping up a storm. Women.”
Mia hit him on the shoulder and showed Jono a small, beaded copper lizard that she had bought.
“Very pretty,” Jono said. He turned the steaks over and brushed them with sauce.
Sofie was doing yoga under a tree. Helen had gone for a run on the track around the airfield and Enrique was cleaning his camera. Rydell was nowhere to be seen and Lena and Gisela had gone for a walk. Marika was enjoying a shower and Eva was hunched over a poem, chewing on her pen.
Jono brushed the steaks again, thinking how normal and holidayish it all seemed, while under the thin skin of the surface, bad things were happening. And he knew in his gut that there was more to follow and that his biggest challenges still lay ahead. He looked over at Treasure and Harrison chattering away while they prepared the vegetables and he had to laugh, remembering how much Treasure had hated Harrison. He could not recall ever having seen her laugh so much or sound so happy.
He smiled to himself and poured a dash of beer onto the steaks. He wondered how Kate was doing and he wished she had not gone with the body for the simple reason that he missed her. He was determined to tell her how he felt as soon as she returned; he did not want to waste another moment. He thought about how she was supportive to those who needed it, and how she never failed to come up with a plan when one was needed. He decided that he would ask her out to dinner the following night when they were in Swakopmund.
“When do you want the vegetables to be ready?” Treasure called out.
“In about half an hour,” Jono told her, “by which time Helen will be back from her run and we can eat. And I must make a phone call before we have supper.”
Helen was flying down the track in fine style, relishing the heart-pounding familiarity of her faithful sanctuary. She rounded a corner and saw Gisela and Lena walking close together, deep in conversation and she thought how wonderful it was that Lena was no longer a slave to her husband’s whims. Helen waved to them as she ran by and it seemed to her that they were startled to see her, but she figured it had been that kind of day and after everything that had happened, it was natural that they were all a bit on edge. She was curious if they had determined what had killed Charisse. Then she told herself to pick up the pace, there was steak for dinner and world-famous apple pie for dessert, and her heart swelled with contentment at a perfect moment.
“Good evening, everybody,” Jono said, taking his usual position to the side of the group after they had finished eating dinner. He stood with his hands in his pockets, while the lights from the bus illuminated the group. “How is everybody tonight?”
“Why isn’t there a bleedin’ fire pit at this campsite?” Mia was truculent. “I feel like I’m sitting in an abandoned lot or something, smack bang in the middle of nowhere. I don’t understand why there’s no place for a fire.”
“It’s just the way this campsite is,” Jono said, marvelling at Mia’s self-absorption.
“How are we going to sit around the bleedin’ campfire and drink, if there’s no campfire?” she persisted.
“Light a candle, sit and drink around that,” Sofie muttered but only Helen heard her.
Jono looked exhausted. “Haw! Mia, my dear,” he said, “practice drinking in the dark, it cannot be too difficult. I am sure you will manage fine.” He smiled at her but she was not happy.
“Not the same ambience,” she grumbled, flicking a seed pod off her bare stomach; she was lounging on her camp stool in her bikini top and shorts.
Jono decided that he couldn’t be bothered with Mia’s need for ambience. “Today,” he said, and he cleared his throat, “was, as you know, a most difficult day for all of us.” He looked around at the circle. “It was very tragic what happened and I am certain we will miss Charisse a lot. I have just spoken to Thaalu on the telephone and he has given me an update and I am happy to say there was no murder involved whatsoever. So you can erase that from your minds entirely.”
“How did she die then?” Sofie asked pointedly.
“She had a very bad bleeding stomach ulcer and then it got septic when she drank the water.”
“There wasn’t any poison?” Harrison enquired.
“Well, there was some poison,” Jono admitted unwillingly, “but not enough to kill her, just enough to give her a stomach ache but because her stomach was so damaged, it killed her. They ruled it an ‘accidental death.’ ”
Harrison cocked his head to one side. “Let me get this straight,” he said, putting his tin plate on the ground and folding his arms. “There was poison in my or Charisse’s water bottle. We will never know whose bottle it was in, but we know it was there? Am I correct?”
“That is correct, yes,” Jono replied, again with obvious reluctance.
“Is there any way that the poison could have fallen into water by accident?” Harrison asked.
“No, somebody would have to had to put it there,” Jono answered, with even more reluctance.
“Therefore,” Harrison said, acknowledging Treasure who had come up to sit beside him, “somebody, on our bus, somebody amongst us here, tried to poison either me or Charisse. Does that not worry anybody except me? There is a murderer among us, does that not concern any of you? I suppose not since none of you were the intended victims.”
“Harrison, there was no intent to kill anybody,” Jono hoped he sounded convincing. “They only wanted to give you or Charisse a stomach ache.”
“Oh, well, that’s much better,” Harrison said, sarcastically. “Forgive me, but the idea of somebody wanting to give me a stomach ache doesn’t make me feel reassured either. Is it because I like to clean so much? I’m only trying to keep us in good health. I mean, some of you are strange too, we all have our own ways, but I’m patient with you, why would you try to poison me?”
“They could have been trying to poison Charisse,” Richard said. “Harrison, I know it’s easy for me to say, since I’m not the one who was nearly poisoned, but the desert does strange things to people, loss of sanity and all that. We heard Char
les tell us all kinds of stories.”
“None of which has any bearing on me being poisoned.” Harrison stuck to his guns.
“Why don’t you have a beer?” Mia offered, “help you relax a bit, take the edge off.”
“Alcohol is not the answer to my problems as it so obviously is to yours,” Harrison said shortly, ignoring the offered beer.
“Don’t you start attacking Mia now,” Richard warned. “Let’s keep our wits about us now. This is a time of stress, we need to pull together, not apart.”
“I tell you what I need,” Harrison announced, his arms still crossed. “I need the person who put the poison in my water to tell me why they did it. I’m going to sit here all night until they tell me. I want to know. I will not get angry, but I must know.” He glared around at the circle, trying to determine who sat uneasily on their campstools, with no one making eye contact.
“But it may not have been aimed at you,” Richard argued. “It may as easily been aimed at Charisse. Heaven knows people here had their issues with her. Here’s the thing: we’re not even halfway through our trip, well, maybe we’re halfway, I don’t know. But never mind, it’s not important; what is important is that we don’t let this ruin our holiday. Let’s put it behind us and carry on.”
Richard looked around intently. “I say we get it together, and stop attacking each other and carry on. This is a holiday of a lifetime for all of us, so, come on people, let’s holiday for God’s sake. I’m incredibly sorry for, and about, Charisse but you heard the man, she died because she had an ulcer that went septic and that’s it. Let the consequence of this be that we unite, not that we crumble.” He came to a close, his tone strongly persuasive. He had taken the time to shower after they arrived and he had shaved his facial hair into long thin sideburns that cut across his cheeks and met in a small goatee on his chin. This geometry, along with his hawk-like features and the pale untanned skin around his eyes, made him an odd, yet compelling figure as he gave his speech.
“I wonder if he’s a politician in his spare time,” Eva whispered to Marika.
“He’s quite fascist with his horrible new shaved look,” Marika agreed.
Sofie looked at Helen who was nodding in earnest agreement with Richard. Sofie shook her head, unable to see what Helen found so appealing in Richard; she found him arrogant and vain.
In the ensuing silence, Jono started to applaud. “I could not agree more, my friend,” he said. “Let us move on and enjoy the rest of our holiday.”
“Harrison, the decision lies with you, old chap,” Richard continued, hoping the sheer force of his will would break Harrison down. “Either we go now and buy some world-famous apple pie and enjoy our holiday or we continue to interrogate and search for answers which, I can tell you now, we will not find. What’s the call? It’s up to you.”
Harrison looked at him, and then at each member of the circle in turn. “Apple pie,” he said, and he laughed. “My life comes down to apple pie. I’ll tell you this,” and he got up and dusted off his shorts, “you go and get your apple pie and continue on with your holiday, I won’t stop you. As for me, I’m going to do the dishes now.” He walked off, with Treasure and Enrique close behind him.
“Good man.” Richard was relieved. “And now I am going to buy apple pie for the lot of you. My treat.”
“I was going to do that.” Helen sprang to her feet, “I’ll come with you, we’ll split it. And if they have ice-cream, we’ll get that too.”
“I’ll get the plates ready,” Mia got up and pulled a tank top over her raw sunburn. “And forks and spoons. I wish we had a bleedin’ campfire,” she muttered, “especially after today. I need to get blotto more than ever.”
“I’m really sorry about Sofie insulting Mia earlier,” Helen told Richard as they walked to the store through the thick coarse sand.
Richard glanced over at her. “Why are you sorry?” he asked. “She said it, not you.”
“Yes, but she’s my tentmate, I would hate for you to think…”
“For me to think what?”
This was not going quite the way Helen had thought or hoped it would. “Richard, hang on a second, let me be frank,” she said and stopped, catching him by the arm.
“You’re a good looking man, a great looking man actually, incredibly sexy. And Mia, well, she’s let herself go, not that she may ever have been different, I don’t know. But I wonder, wouldn’t you like to feel a taut, hard body underneath you rather than all that softness?” She took a step closer to him.
Richard went dead quiet. “Come again?” he asked softly.
Helen stepped still closer to him and looked up at him. “I was wondering,” she said, “if you wouldn’t like to have a body like mine underneath you — fit, tight, strong, lean. No strings attached, just you and me, work off some energy, have some fun together. I can bring you a lot of pleasure, trust me.”
“Funny,” Richard said, consideringly, “that’s exactly what I thought you meant.”
He turned off his flashlight. “Let me explain something to you, sunshine,” he said softly, and he moved closer to her, his warm breath caressing her ear.
She leaned up against him, loving the feel of his chest through his thin T-shirt and enjoying the way he smelled clean and freshly shaven. She could see the wiry ginger hair on his neck below his Adam’s apple and she felt a wave of arousal so strong she nearly clutched him.
“You repulse me,” he whispered, “you’re like a man to me, no, you’re something even worse. You’re a finger-pointing, uptight, judgmental, know-it all bitch in trousers. No one will listen to you in the real world, so you seek out the vulnerable, the sick and the poor, and you form a little dictatorship, lying to yourself that you’re bringing help and relief to the world, when all you’re really doing is bossing people around who’ve got no choice but to listen.”
He leaned in even closer. “You pretend to others that it’s for the good of the cause but the truth is that you get off on it. And now, you want me to put my hand up your skirt and fuck you and tell you how sexy you are, tell you that I’ve been hot for you since the moment I saw you. I took one look at you and saw exactly who and what you are and I saw what you think of Mia, it’s been written all over your unhappy, frigid face right from the start. Now,” he added, running a finger up her arm, “here’s how it’s going to work. We’re going to get this apple pie, which frankly I don’t give a bastard’s shit about, and then we’re going to go back and you’ll be all happy, like you were when we walked off. And if you ever come on to me again, or even so much as look in Mia’s direction with any kind of holier-than-thou expression, I’ll make sure you can’t do your precious running for a very long time and believe me, I know how to do it. Do I make myself clear?” He held her chin for a moment and then he stepped away and waited for her reply.
“Crystal clear.” Helen was quiet, with salty tears falling onto her cheeks.
“Excellent. Now, wipe your face and start smiling again. Imagine,” he continued conversationally, “world-famous apple pie, right here, in the middle of nowhere.”
Helen watched him walk off, then she ran to catch up with him.
To Swakopmund
KATE WOKE UP EARLY, DISORIENTED. She could feel that her face was swollen from crying but she could not remember what she had been upset about. She raised herself up on one elbow and looked around the anonymous room. For a few moments she had no idea where she was or what she was doing there. She searched around for clues. She saw her camera bag next to the bed and then she remembered the hospital and all the events of the previous day came flooding back. Charisse was dead. Brianna was in a state of shock and sedated. Thaalu, with his spicy scent and beautiful tiger’s eye gaze, was gone and she was alone.
She lay back down on the bed and pulled the thin sheet over her. She thought about her family, about her best friend Rachel, her ex, Cameron, and the j
ob she had left. That life seemed like a distant movie from another universe. She rallied her thoughts back to the present, dismayed to feel a headache brewing in the back of her skull.
She wondered what the group was up to. Everything seemed so complicated and a part of her wished that she could phone Thaalu and tell him that she wanted to join him, that she wanted to live a life that was simpler, easier.
But then she tried to picture herself living in a hut, digging for tubers, collecting milk and honey, and washing her few items of clothing along the banks of a river. She tried to imagine herself skinning dead animals and drinking thick rich beer while sitting around a campfire with voices clicking in a tongue she could not understand. She told herself she was making assumptions and that Thaalu’s life was in all likelihood far more modern than that but regardless, it would not work.
She sighed, rolled over onto her back and dug her fingers into the pressure points at the base of her skull. The pain was intense, the relief minimal. She pulled a pillow over her head and lay very still.
At Solitaire, the camp slowly came to life. Helen had gone out for an early morning run. She was still shaken by her encounter with Richard, and furious with him — he could as easily have said “no thanks,” instead of being so vicious. She eased into her rhythm in the dusty fuzzy-peach light of the dawn and wished there was a way she could pay him back. There had to be a way. She felt sick with humiliation and incensed with the way both he and Robbie had treated her. Her face was grim, her body tight and focused. Toying with ideas of vengeance, she wondered if there was any credence to spells and curses. She had always scoffed at the idea but the locals at the mission had taken them seriously, even the educated women among them.
She pounded through the sand and the more she thought about it, the more she was convinced that it could work — she would find a person or a book in Swakopmund that would tell her how to do things. She smiled as she ran, thinking about her revenge.
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