by Frank Coates
She walked past him to the breakfast room where she shoved a few kindling sticks into the cast-iron stove and placed the kettle over the opening in the top.
After a few minutes, he joined her. ‘How long has this been going on?’
‘It wasn’t planned, Edward. It was just one of those things. It happened.’
‘I understand that, but we have an arrangement, and this appears to be outside of that, don’t you think?’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I should have told you, but I had no intention of … Anyway, it just … happened.’
‘Will it happen again?’
She had already considered that question and had no answer. She and Sam hadn’t spoken about it so she had no idea of his intentions. ‘I’m staying at the Muthaiga Club,’ Sam had said, in the only hint that he may want to see her again.
‘I don’t know,’ she said.
‘Let me make this clear, Dana. While I may have my reservations about the suitability of your bedroom partner, I don’t have any objections to you fucking him provided you abide by our agreed arrangements.’
‘You mean stay within the Zephyr group?’
‘Precisely.’
She couldn’t argue. Edward was quite correct, and she’d agreed to the rules of the game before they started it.
Her first thought was that although she wanted Sam, she wanted him all to herself. She didn’t want to share him with her girlfriends, although she felt quite sure that many of them would be excited about the addition of exotic and ordinarily forbidden fruit to their games. But even if Sam agreed to be a part of their party nights, he would never fit in, and Edward very well knew it.
So why would he make it so difficult for her to be with Sam? She knew Edward well enough to believe he wasn’t threatened by her sexual relationship with the new man. He’d shown no sign of it in any of her exploits with the men in their group, or those she’d shared her bed with in England when she and Edward began their open marriage. In fact, she suspected that it excited him. More than once he’d hinted that he’d like to be present while she was making love to one of the others. He didn’t want to participate, he said, just to watch. He went so far as to ask the opinion of a couple of the men, who told him they wouldn’t mind. Dana did though, so it never happened.
But Dana quickly realised what was on Edward’s mind. It was not a racial concern. Although he had a paternalistic attitude to black Kenyans, he had none of the extreme views of many of the settlers of his class. The issue was that Edward was a snob. It wouldn’t matter what colour a man might be: unless he was of the right type, which to Edward meant of the landed if not titled gentry, they were socially unsuited.
She knew Edward would be watching her: if she went to see Sam again, he would find out and most likely, and justifiably, cut her off without a penny. On the other hand, if she invited Sam into their group she faced even more risks. If, as she suspected, Sam was shocked by her and her group’s outrageous behaviour, she might not only lose him, but suffer his disgust. On the other hand, if he agreed to join and was not accepted by the others, he would hate her for exposing him to such humiliation. Equally unsettling: if he was accepted by them, Sam would no longer be special to her.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Inviting him into the group is quite impossible.’
‘I absolutely forbid it any other way.’
‘Then it’s settled,’ she said softly. ‘It’s over.’
The densely wooded slopes of Mt Marsabit rose above the dry, blood-red earth. Being due west of the extinct volcano meant Sam was now about four or five days from the border. On his return in about a month, he would employ local Boran and, when they’d travelled too far from their tribal lands, Rendile tribesmen to help with the muster until he was close to home. But for now he was alone, and had plenty of time to think.
He’d delayed his departure for a couple of weeks, hoping to hear from Dana, but from her silence concluded she’d realised her error, and changed her mind about seeing him again.
He knew Dana Northcote would be dangerous, but he had always thought it would be because of the stigma attached to sexual relations across the racial divide. Although there were many white men who, far from home and other European women, had taken comfort with an African woman, it was a far different matter between a black man and a white woman. Such a relationship could fire strong feelings in the European community — particularly among the men. But from the moment that Sam first felt attracted to Dana he had been prepared for that risk. The danger that he now confronted was that Dana had become more than a merely desirable woman: she’d penetrated the barrier he’d erected against a serious relationship.
She was strong yet vulnerable. He wanted to share her strength so that together they could defy convention. At the same time he wanted to shield her from the storm that a relationship such as theirs was bound to whip up.
He was thirty-three, and knew enough about the world to know he should respect her wishes to let their affair end. But he also knew himself well enough to know, given the chance, he wouldn’t allow her to.
The Abyssinian tribesmen were anxious to make their sale and be gone. A death sentence awaited them should the Emperor’s men discover their felony. The high-country horses were corralled for Sam’s inspection, and he’d already selected a few. What he wanted now was the high-spirited stallion pacing the rails: he would be perfect for Dana’s mare, Dancer.
Somehow the leader of the horse smugglers had perceived Sam’s interest in the stallion and was making it difficult for him to purchase it at a reasonable price. He decided to bluff it out, walking away from the dealer to call his men together ready for the muster. But the stallion was exactly the horse Sam needed to have reason to visit Dana again. He would bargain and haggle, but at the end of it, the stallion would be his.
‘And what about the stallion?’ the Abyssinian asked.
‘What stallion?’ Sam said. ‘This old bag of bones? It is not worth my grandmother’s broken teeth.’
‘It is the best stallion I have captured in all my years,’ the Abyssinian insisted. ‘Look at those eyes. There is the fire of hell in them, yet he is as sweet as an angel in heaven. Nobody could find a better animal for the stud.’
‘Pah! The stud, you say? More likely he’d fit the farm plough rather than a mare, but I don’t think he has the stamina even for that. Take him away. I already have enough for the journey home.’
‘But look at those legs. A village could be built on such strong posts. A city.’
It was clear the dealer didn’t want to remain in the outpost any longer and was keen to do business. There was a rumour that a contingent of soldiers was making a routine patrol along the border and he wanted to be able to make a fast retreat to his mountain homeland if they came his way. The stallion was too expensive to release to the wilds again, but too much trouble to conceal until the next customer happened by.
It was May, and the long rains of 1931 were overdue. Everyone feared another drought. In Dana’s circle of friends the concern was that unless the rains came soon, the new season’s racing events due to begin in Nakuru in June would be washed out. The timing of the year’s social calendar was at stake.
The doldrums — the stifling windless time before the trade winds brought the rain — were always difficult for Dana. The humid air seemed to smother her like a hot, wet sheet, and her hair was perpetually limp. Wearing anything more than a loose-fitting cotton shift, including underwear, was unbearable. And she felt she looked a fright in a shift.
She’d not organised the usual Zephyr dinner party in April, nor would she do so in May while the climate remained unchanged. She was in no mood for such frivolity. Let Averil or Polly organise one, she thought.
At these times she really missed England’s seasons: the bite of an autumn wind, even the chill of winter, were the stuff of her dreams.
Edward was immune. He went about his daily routine — he seemed to have become more involved in the farm of late —
without seeming to notice Dana’s smouldering irritation.
‘Why don’t you go for a spin into Nairobi?’ he asked after Dana lost her temper trying to fix her hair into something resembling neat.
‘I can’t be bothered,’ she whined.
‘Pick up Polly on the way and stay a few days.’
‘No. But I will take a drive down to Gilgil. I need a few items. Do you care to join me?’
‘No, my dear. I have to collect a scarifier from the Banfields’.’
The Banfields were the nearest of their Zephyr friends and John Banfield and Edward often shared farm equipment.
Edward took the Albion, and drove out the gate with a wave.
Dana climbed into the Willys-Knight roadster, and drove down to the dukas at Gilgil. Immediately she had escaped the claustrophobic confines of the ranch she felt better.
She idled away an hour, chatting to a neighbour about the weather and other trivial matters, bought some soap and a handful of hair clasps, and headed home again.
Her heart leaped when she saw a herd of Abyssinian horses in the holding pens outside the stable; when she drove up to the house, Sam was standing there, hands in his pockets, wearing an uncertain smile.
She hadn’t seen him in more than two months. Although she knew she should have contacted him in some way, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to do so. On her infrequent visits to Nairobi she had avoided the Muthaiga Club in case he was there. She’d imagined her emotions would hold sway if she saw him; now she knew that was true. The memory of his body on hers, of his mouth and his strong presence came flooding back with such intensity that it took her breath away.
She sat for a moment behind the wheel, trying to regain her composure, but when she climbed out of the car she was immediately aware she was naked under her thin cotton dress. She fluffed out the folds and tried to pat her hair into some form of shape.
‘Hello, Dana,’ he said as she approached the veranda.
‘Sam! It’s so nice to see you.’
When she’d reached the top of the steps and stood before him, he searched her eyes, but she avoided them by giving him a brief hug.
‘You’ve been back to Abyssinia,’ she said, dragging her eyes from him. The herd of about a dozen horses was barely able to fit into the stable enclosure.
‘Yes … I haven’t heard from you, but I presumed you’re still looking for a stallion for stud.’
‘Of course. Yes, I am. And I’ve been so busy I’ve hardly been out. But look at me — where are my manners? Come inside, I’ll get you a cold drink.’
‘Thanks, but I’ve already had one.’ He nodded to the table and the empty glass.
‘Oh, then Edward’s here?’
She knew he wasn’t because the farm truck was not in its place behind the house.
‘No, Mary brought it for me.’
‘Wonderful.’
Dana clasped and unclasped her hands in front of her, desperately trying to find something to relieve the tension between them. Sam didn’t help by studying her in silence.
She was racked with guilt for not contacting him and explaining that she couldn’t sleep with him again. Now she realised it appeared that she had simply shrugged the whole affair off as unimportant.
‘Well …’ he said at last, ‘I’ll take the herd up to the top enclosure … I mean, to let them graze for —’
‘Yes! Of course. The agistment. As we agreed.’
‘It’ll only be for a day or so before … before I move on to Nairobi.’ He smiled self-consciously, and started towards the veranda steps. ‘Oh, before I go —’
‘Yes?’
‘You’ll want to see your stallion.’
‘What? Yes, I do.’
‘I’ve put him in a spare stall.’
They walked in silence to the stable. Dana was aware of his discomfort, but she felt powerless. Her life was so complicated. How could she explain Edward’s offer to let him join their group and her refusal to share him? How could she begin to explain her extramarital life to him?
The stallion was black with a splash of grey on his withers. He lifted his head as they entered the stable. He was big for an Abyssinian, maybe fifteen hands, and wasn’t afraid to show his temperament, snorting loudly when Dana came closer.
‘He’s beautiful,’ she said, reaching out to stroke his neck. The stallion stepped back and shook his head.
‘He’ll take time to settle down, but he’s the best I’ve found up in Abyssinia for months. Mating him with Dancer, who has the speed, should throw foals with good staying ability.’
‘Thank you, Sam. I’ll take good care of him.’
‘I know,’ he said, and took her hand in his. ‘Dana, I wondered if I should be here at all. When I didn’t hear from you, I thought you might have had regrets about what happened. I mean, you’re married and —’
‘It’s not that, Sam.’
He reached out to her, placing his hand lightly on her shoulder. It sent a shiver through her.
‘We were very indiscreet,’ he said. ‘I presume your husband has found out about us and you’ve had second thoughts.’
‘It’s not that. Edward and I don’t have a conventional marriage.’
She didn’t know how to continue and knew he was confused by her reserve. She so desperately wanted to explain. But how? ‘Sam …’ she began. ‘Sam —’
The rattle of the old Albion coming through the home gate interrupted her. Edward had returned. She led Sam from the stable and sighed with relief. Until that moment she’d never regretted the decision she and Edward had made to live an unconventional life together, but the prospect of explaining that decision to Sam made it seem at once mad and shameful.
The Abyssinians were at that stage of their journey where they had become accustomed to the routine. Sam found that if he kept the numbers down to around a dozen horses they were easier to drive when he was working them on his own during the final leg of the journey. Now, as he headed them up towards the Northcotes’ high pastures, they were very willing. They seemed to know they would find good grass and cool air there, reminiscent of the highlands of their home.
Sam needed the easy ride. He’d hoped Dana would have explained why she hadn’t been in touch, but she’d said nothing. He regretted coming. He would stay the night and perhaps another to rest the horses, then leave her. He’d obviously made a big mistake.
How ironic, he thought to himself. I let down my defences just once and again the woman I have chosen has not chosen me.
CHAPTER 25
After Sam left for the high pastures with his horses, Edward had been unusually kind and solicitous. He brought Dana a gin and tonic at sundown, and sat with her on the veranda watching the sun go from gold to blood-red.
‘You came back early,’ Dana said, referring to his visit to the Banfields’.
‘Yes. John’s in Tanganyika and Eliza’s gone to Nairobi for the day.’
‘Did you collect the scarifier?’
‘The scarifier? No.’
‘But you had arranged to pick it up. Surely John wouldn’t have minded.’
‘No. I’ll go another day.’
Dana dabbed at her throat with her lace handkerchief, and sighed. ‘I’m so listless in this heat,’ she said.
‘It’s ghastly, especially for you, apparently.’ He added more ice to her gin and tonic. ‘Do you miss England, my dear? The cool days; the cold nights?’
‘I do, sometimes.’
‘I must admit, I’m finding it difficult myself this year. And it’s not just the weather. I’ve been giving this a great deal of thought … maybe it’s time we went home.’
‘Home? You mean, to England?’
‘Yes. Prices are falling. Blasted socialists. Farm produce is worth nothing these days, and by the time you include the freight to market or the docks, you’re lucky to break even. I’m fed up. To be honest, I’ve started putting things into perspective. I’m having second thoughts about what we’re doing here in K
enya. I mean it’s not home, is it?’
‘Edward, what on earth …? This is quite a revelation.’
‘I know you didn’t want to come in the first place, and I should have listened to you. We have so much more in England. So that’s what I’ve been thinking. Maybe it’s time to go home.’
‘Can we? What about your creditors?’
‘The family have come into a little extra money and they’ve offered to sign it over to me. They’re calling it an advance on my inheritance. I think it’s a damn decent show of them. I’d like to accept. Will you come with me?’
‘Edward … this is so sudden.’
‘I know. I’m sorry.’
He reached a hand across the gap between their chairs to take hers.
‘I’m very fond of you, Dana. You know that. And I know I am a little abrupt at times. I’ve learned something about myself since being here — and it’s not just that I’m not a farmer. This is a very strange place. We amuse ourselves, I suppose, but we had a good life in England too. I think we could make a new start there. What do you say?’
‘Edward, I … I’m not sure. Can I have a few days to think about it?’
It had been an odd night. Edward had been charming and amusing, as he could when he left the whisky in the bottle. His regrets about his behaviour seemed sincere; and now, after many years of her persistently asking that they abandon their pointless quest to make a success of farming in that most unusual of climates, he was now suggesting they should leave. She didn’t instantly agree and that was also rather strange. As she lay in bed later that night she wondered why.
Although life in Kenya was comfortable, it was not home. There was nothing about it that reminded her of England unless it was the rare occasion where a glimpse across a misty hillside, with the green grass tinged golden by the dawn, and when the air was still and fresh, brought to mind the moors of the south-west. But five minutes later, when the sun burst from behind the hills with its characteristic and unseemly haste and laid its hot hand on the skin, the illusion would be lost. Or else what might have been a Dartmoor pony turned out to be a zebra, and spoiled the illusion.
