Amie in Africa Box Set 1

by Lucinda E Clarke

  “Now look here, Sam,” she hissed, the moment she’d dragged her inside and closed the door. “Will you please behave. These are our friends and it’s patently obvious you don’t want to be here. Holiday makers from all over the world pay a fortune to come and stay at game lodges like this, and all you can do is sulk and be rude. Jonathon and I owe our lives to Dirk and Helen, and they’re the nicest people you could ever meet. So, just snap out of it and at least pretend you’re enjoying yourself.”

  “It’s all right for you,” Samantha whined. “All I see is happily married couples, marriages where the guy isn’t cheating on his wife with some blonde bimbo. You’re being very cruel, Amie. You have no idea what I’ve been through.”

  Amie was on the point of telling Sam that if she’d behaved like this in England, then she wasn’t surprised Gerry had walked out. She was enough to try the patience of a saint. Instead she held her temper, and reminded Sam that she too had been through hard times, not knowing if Jonathon was alive or dead.

  Then her compassion got the better of her and she put her arms round her sister. “Look, I know it’s hard, but it was your choice to come here and all we want to do is help cheer you up. Will you please try? Just try and enjoy the moment? You know, all that stuff about living each day as if it was your last?”

  They were interrupted by Jonathon coming in with the suitcases.

  “When you’re ready, I’ll show you your room,” he addressed Sam. “It’s in the main house and Helen is making up the bed for you now.”

  As Amie suspected, they had prepared a banda for Sam, but there was no way she would settle on her own in the compound.

  Later that afternoon more guests arrived, Americans, excited to see the big game, so it was a lively party that sat down that evening on the open veranda to a delicious meal of roast kudu washed down with a decent wine.

  “How do you get all this stuff out here?” Sam asked Helen.

  “Pretty much the same way you got here,” Helen smiled. “We bring everything in by road, except for the produce we grow here and the meat we get locally.”

  Samantha looked puzzled. She hadn’t noticed any shops close by.

  “One of the guys will hunt the antelope,” Amie explained.

  “What. Go out and kill it?” Sam was shocked.

  “Well, what did you expect?” Amie snapped. “Where do you think your meat in the supermarket comes from? Only here they take one at a time as they need it rather than herding hundreds every day into a slaughterhouse so you can buy your meat in a little plastic tray.”

  “I know which I prefer,” Sam muttered under her breath, but Amie heard her. She was fast losing patience so she turned to chat to the Americans.

  Early the next morning Sam shrank when she saw they were proposing to go for a game drive in an open top Land Rover.

  “The lions could jump into that! Or an elephant could ...”

  “Why don’t you stay here with me at the lodge?” Helen asked kindly, so the rest of the party could enjoy the wildlife and scenery.

  Sam nodded her thanks and curled up in a chair in the lounge to read her book, but not without scanning the area every few minutes to check for anything dangerous.

  As the Land Rover bumped over the cattle grid on the way out of the lodge, Amie felt a frisson of excitement run through her. This was the real Africa and it was fast disappearing. It was a privilege to see the natural world of this ancient continent with all its wonders before its creatures were hunted to extinction.

  The first animals they saw were a herd of Thomson’s gazelles, and the Americans ooed and aaahd as the motors whirred on their video cameras. The gazelles stood motionless by the side of the track, vigilant, prepared to take off if the newcomers moved an inch too close.

  Further on they spotted a couple of giraffes, their blue tongues delicately curling round the leaves at the top of a tall acacia tree. They stopped momentarily to gaze at the truck; large, liquid eyes peering from under their long lashes.

  “It’s not generally known,” Dirk said softly, “that the numbers of giraffes in the wild have dwindled alarmingly. They should be on the endangered list and one species has only a handful left.”

  “Y’all telling me there’re different kinds of giraffe?” Mel from Oklahoma was surprised.

  “Oh yes, at least five. They have different markings. Lighter, darker, large and small patches and each indicates a separate species. They don’t mate outside their own genus.”

  “Y’all don’t say.”

  “The ones you see now are the Rothschild’s common giraffe.”

  “And how can y’all tell the difference?”

  “We have two kinds in this area. The reticulated giraffe is a darker chestnut with a crazy paving pattern separated by very clear-cut cream coloured lines. These ones here are a lighter brown and their spots are less clearly defined with irregular edges.”

  “Oh my, I never knew that.”

  The game drive was deemed a success by the Americans, as they busily filmed a family of warthogs that ran off squealing into the bushes, tails held high to warn of danger. They watched a pride of lionesses feasting on a gemsbok, fascinated and repulsed at the same time. Even though the elephants they saw were a long way away, the visitors were awed by their size and strength.

  “They sure do look a lot larger than they do in the zoo, Mel,” whispered his wife.

  “Yeah, y’all can feel as how there’s nothing between you and them, no barriers or fences. Sure, is awesome.”

  Amie smiled to herself. From the comfort of the Land Rover she felt totally safe and wondered how these visitors from the first world would feel if they were traversing the land on foot.

  “We’ll go down to the waterhole tonight,” Dirk told them, “you’ll see many of the animals there as it’s getting dark. Look!” He brought the truck to a stop. “See it?”

  Amie saw it right away, but the Americans were puzzled.

  “There, in that thicket over there?”

  “I see something dark grey but no idea what it is.”

  “Rhino,” Amie pointed. “To the left of that bush?”

  “Ah, yeah, I do now. One of the big five, very dangerous.” Betty nervously shifted her ample behind on the seat.

  “Dangerous, but not the most dangerous,” Dirk added. “The Big 5 label was coined by the big game hunters as those most difficult to hunt on foot. Lion, elephant, Cape buffalo, leopard and rhino. Though,” he chuckled, “there are plenty of local people who would disagree with that.”

  “Why? What would they say?” Mel wanted to know.

  “They would include the hippo, notoriously bad tempered and known to overturn boats if you get too close, and even trample you on land while out feeding at night.”

  “They don’t feed in the water?” Betty was not convinced.

  “No, they’re vegetarians and feed at night on grass and shrubs. They stay in the water during the day to keep cool. Very susceptible to sunburn,” Dirk glanced at Betty’s shoulders which were already lobster pink.

  “Are there any other dangerous creatures the locals are afraid of?” Mel asked.

  “They would add snakes, crocodiles and even the honey badger.”

  “Badgers? Ah no. They’re tiny little critters.”

  “Yes, but amazingly fierce. Legend has it they will attack a fully-grown buffalo, biting at their testicles and refuse to let go.”

  Betty shuddered, her red arms reflecting in the sunlight, and Dirk suggested they go back to the lodge for a late lunch.

  While the Americans had had the time of their lives, the weekend was not a great success for one member of the other party, Amie thought, during their drive back to Apatu on Sunday night. It had been great to see Helen and Dirk again, but she was ready to murder Samantha and wondered how soon her visitor’s visa would expire. She felt guilty thinking such things about her one and only sister, but maybe she’d moved on, or her mindset had changed, but she and Sam were no longer on the same
wavelength. They were worlds apart.

  As soon as they arrived home and offloaded the truck, Amie suggested that Sam might want to Skype her parents and maybe chat to the children. Perhaps she was, at long last, missing them and would be persuaded to go home. When Amie remembered the amount of love and care she had poured into Angelina, she couldn’t fathom how Sam could just walk away from her own children. It had been nearly three weeks now and she’d only spoken to them once.

  Sam watched Amie power up the laptop, while remarking that she’d go nuts living way out there in the bush with no reliable internet.

  “They do have a radio for emergencies but there are so many other things to do. I don’t think they worry about that at all.”

  Sam just grunted and when at last the pictures of her mother, father, Dean and Jade appeared on the screen she didn’t even look thrilled to see them.

  “Look what Granny bought me!” shrieked Dean waving a plastic dinosaur around his head, “and we got sweets too, lots of sweets.”

  Jade was a bit more subdued and asked, “When are you coming home, Mummy?”

  Amie held her breath waiting for Sam’s reply.

  “It won’t be too long now, darling. Mummy’s having a lovely holiday with Aunty Amie, and it’s nice and warm here.”

  Amie ground her teeth. Sam had done nothing but complain about the heat ever since she’d arrived. She’d worried about getting skin cancer, moaned that the hot sun gave her a headache, and the hat she had to wear outdoors messed up her hair.

  “Can we come and have a holiday with you, too?” Dean asked.

  “That would be very, very expensive and Aunty Amie doesn’t have all that many bedrooms.”

  That’s a big fat lie, fumed Amie. She went to put the kettle on for coffee, leaving her to it.

  Several minutes later, Samantha called Amie back to the laptop to chat to her mother.

  “How are you, Mum?” Amie thought her mother looked tired and harassed.

  “Coping, but those two are a handful. On the go from morning till night. Any idea how long Sam will be staying with you?”

  Amie could guess her mother had had enough and like all grannies needed a break. She glanced around but Sam had disappeared into her bedroom and closed the door.

  “I’ve no idea, but she’s not settled too well here and I don’t think she’s enjoying herself.” She paused, almost too afraid to ask. “How are things there? At her house I mean.” What she was really asking, where was Gerry and what was he up to?

  “Gerry has moved back home. We don’t know if it’s over but he’s going to have to take the children part time at least.” Mary Reynolds sounded worried. “I need to spend more time looking after your father. After the fright we had last year, I need to keep a careful eye on him so he doesn’t do too much.”

  “I understand, Mum, I do. I’ll suggest to Sam that she flies home soon. I’ll do my best, I promise.”

  It took another ten days to persuade Samantha to go back to London. She didn’t really want to stay but then she didn’t want to go back to Castle Bridge either.

  Amie watched her sister walk across the concourse and climb the steps into the plane and her heart ached for her. But at the same time an enormous sense of relief washed over her. Thank God she’s gone.

  For a couple of days, life returned to normal after Sam’s departure. Jonathon worked long hours at the desalination plant and Amie split her time between coffee at the club, playing the odd game of tennis now that the courts had been repaired, and helping out at the orphanage.

  Tired of waiting for the builders to arrive, Mrs Motswezi had rounded up a crowd of people to build traditional African huts made by mixing earth, cow dung and water together for the walls, and thatch for the roofs. Amie had to admit they looked more picturesque than the ubiquitous breezeblock structures topped by corrugated steel sheets that were so popular with the modern Africans. Natural materials were more suitable to the hot, mostly dry climate. There was the inconvenience of the insect life and small mammals that also liked to set up home in the grass roofs, but traditional houses were more practical in the long run.

  Mrs Motswezi never failed to amaze her with her indefatigable zest for life, her hard work, and her love for the little orphans she protected. She had suffered far more than Sam, yet it hadn’t made her bitter. She got on with life. Not for the first time, Amie wondered who was the strongest? The soft, unable-to-cope westerners, or these hardy people who suffered more, yet picked themselves up and moved on. Not for them counselling and a welfare state safety net to catch them if things went wrong. They had only their own internal strength to rely on.

  If Amie thought her own troubles were over and life would settle down, she was wrong. They were only just beginning.

  7 THE ATTACK

  Present day

  It was a dark night with only a quarter moon showing through wispy clouds. A small group of hooded men made their stealthy way down the street before stopping outside Jonathon and Amie’s house. The street was deserted except for the askari who’d nodded off by the gate. They checked right and left to make sure they were not seen, then one of the men pulled out a knife and ensured the guard would never wake again. A thick trickle of blood leaked down his tunic jacket and dripped into the sand.

  Next, throwing a rubber mat over the glass shards, three of them scaled the wall and silently dropped into the garden. They kept to the shadows and made for the house. The man left outside took a can of spray paint out of his pocket and set about writing on the wall.

  In the garden, two of them checked for open windows. There was no need, they had no intentions of removing the burglar bars, it wasn’t necessary. They’d already established that the Fish household had no air conditioning system so it was expected that several of the windows would be open. But they also had a key to the back door, courtesy of Lulu, Amie’s first maid. One of them slipped inside, and swiftly and silently placed a large package in the hallway, half way between the front and the back doors and covered it with a rug he grabbed from the back of the sofa. He returned to the back garden, closing and locking the door silently behind him.

  While he was occupied, two men entered the kaya in the garden and slipping inside, slit Mathilda’s throat as she lay sleeping. This was strictly against orders, but after waiting so long for the order to act, it was the watchers’ way of relieving their frustration. They didn’t know it, but they played right into the hands of their enemies.

  Something woke Amie, she wasn’t sure what, maybe it was a bad dream, but once awake she needed to pee, and then she wandered into the kitchen to grab a glass of juice. The night was hot, airless and the cicadas were making their usual racket outside.

  The people in the garden saw the light go on in the kitchen and froze for a moment, but they were well-trained professionals and they melted into the shadows and calmly made their way round the side of the house.

  Amie placed the empty glass in the sink, and opening the back door, stepped out onto the stoep, just as the last of the men scaled the front wall and dropped onto the road below. As they slipped away their leader lagged behind and waited on the corner. He took a cell phone out of his pocket and dialled a number.

  “It’s all in place,” he whispered in a language neither Jonathon nor Amie would have understood.

  “Do it now,” the voice on the other end replied.

  The call was disconnected. Swiftly the caller tapped in a second number, and listened for the beep. Within a fraction of a second, the earth shook beneath his feet as the explosives went off.

  The house became an inferno in minutes as soft furnishings and timbers caught light. Amie was launched into the air, landing in a bloody heap by the far wall which was the only thing that prevented her from travelling even further.

  The flames raced from one room to another devouring everything in their path. Before long, the roof caved in, the windows exploded outwards showering the garden in a glittering hailstorm. The paint on the walls blis
tered in the heat. There was nothing left of the writing sprayed on the wall inside the garden, but the repeated message on the outside wall was still partially visible, it proclaimed – Allah Akbar – we promised revenge.

  The startling white ceiling that seared Amie’s eyes, was suddenly blocked by a dark figure.

  “Ah, you’re awake. That’s good,” the face smiled. “I’ll just go and get the doctor.”

  “Where? How?” Amie began, and then she didn’t remember any more.

  The next time she came to, she realised she was in a hospital bed. She was attached to drips and someone had stuck plastic disks on her chest. Somewhere above her a monitor was thumping and beeping. She tried to raise herself up, but a severe pain shot through her head. From what she could see she was in a private room and the door was closed.

  Swivelling her eyes, very carefully as the pain was intense, she looked for a bell to press. She had no idea why she was lying there, she had no recollection of events and her mind was whirling with questions. There was no obvious sign of a button to summon help so she lay back and tried to think. She remembered who she was and she could recall where she came from, and that she was in Africa, but more than that was blank.

  For the next few days she drifted in and out of consciousness. At one time she was vaguely aware of doctors and nurses bending over her. At another, Jonathon was sitting by her bed speaking softly telling her how much he loved her. Her father and mother came too, and tried to sound cheerful, but one visitor she heard quite clearly. It was Ouma Adede.

  “You have been sent to Africa to help us,” she said. “You must fulfil your destiny. You must do as they tell you. The ancestors have foretold this in your future. Do not disobey them, follow their instructions.” Amie forced her eyes open, but there was no one there. She felt dizzy and disorientated and very, very weak.

  She had no idea how long she’d been lying in the hospital bed, but each day became a little clearer until she was able to communicate with the doctors and tell them how she was feeling. But they wouldn’t tell her how or why she was there, and she didn’t learn the truth until she had an unexpected visitor.