I hefted the rifle as we approached the lugga, but nothing stirred. There was no acrid scent of lion or leopard. I had learned that the bigger cats smelled strongly of urine and blood, particularly if they’d recently marked or fed. It was possible to track them by scent alone although it took a gifted tracker to do it.
We moved swiftly across the lugga and emerged into the opening in a field. It was another of the sad pyrethrum fields and I turned to Dodo with a shrug.
“So? It’s another few acres of a poor crop that ought to be plowed under.”
“Look again.”
I moved into the field, pushing past the first several rows of pyrethrum, and straight into something quite different.
I turned back to Dodo. “You must be joking.”
“No. Cannabis sativa. Hundreds of plants. The pyrethrum is only the border, no doubt for camouflage.”
I walked farther into the field, pushing the plants apart with my hands. They were springy and green, and I wasn’t surprised to find extremely good irrigation equipment functioning perfectly.
“That bastard.” I turned and strode back to the main part of the farm. I think Dodo followed, but I never turned to look. A lion could have carried her off for all I cared. All I could think of was Gates.
I found him outside the barn, harassing Moses. He raised his hand and slapped the boy just as I rounded the corner.
I didn’t bother to call his name. I merely lifted the heavy rifle and shot the ground at his feet, blasting a hole into the dirt. Clots of red earth sprayed upwards. He jumped straight into the air and spun around.
“Are you out of your mind, you stupid bitch?” he demanded, his face flushing red. Spittle flew from his mouth when he spoke, and Moses stared from him to me with undisguised horror.
My shoulder was aching from the recoil, but I seated the butt of the gun again and sighted him. “Pack up. Take your ugly wife and your nasty children and get off this property.”
He took a single step in my direction and I fired again, this time just nicking his boot. “You’re barking mad!” Gates howled.
“Shut up. I didn’t even hit you. But I will the next time.” I reloaded and cocked the rifle yet again, but this time I aimed directly for his heart.
He curled his lip. “You think you can get away with killing me?”
“I don’t plan to kill you,” I said, dropping the barrel to his crotch.
He moved then, scurrying in the direction of his house. I glanced at Moses who was breathing hard.
I cocked my head. “Moses, get back to the cows. I will have a look at your head as soon as Mr. Gates is gone.”
He nodded and trotted back to his cows. Dodo rounded the corner then, holding a hand to her side. “Heavens, I’ve the most awful stitch. What is it? What’s happened?”
“I have given Mr. Gates his notice,” I informed her. “I just have to finish evicting him.”
I walked slowly toward his house and by the time I arrived, he was emerging with his wife and children and a pair of hastily packed cases. “I trust we can return for the rest of our things,” Gates said, his eyes icy as he faced me.
“You trust wrong.”
He moved toward me and I lifted the rifle meaningfully. He grabbed his wife hard by the arm and threw her into the car, shoving the children after. He left in a cloud of dust, his arm extended out the window in an obscene gesture. His son was offering me the same gesture in the rear window and I obliged by returning it.
“Delilah, really,” Dodo murmured.
“He started it.”
I turned on my heel and went straight to Moses. He had only a small cut on his head. I looked him over carefully, but he seemed fine, probably better than I was. My shoulder throbbed and I could barely lift my arm over my waist.
“Moses, was that the first time Mr. Gates hit you?”
He shook his head.
Wincing, I put both my hands on his shoulders and looked him squarely in the eye. “Moses, you work for me and no one else. Nobody, and I mean nobody, has the right to mistreat you. If anyone does, you come directly to me, do you hear? You are my responsibility, and I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
He ducked his head a moment then slipped a small beaded bracelet off his wrist. It was blue and white, like many I had seen in their village, worked in an intricate pattern with a slender and distinctive green stripe for contrast. It was primitive but somehow as elegant as anything I’d seen in Paris. He pressed it into my hand, and before I could say a word he had vanished. I slipped it onto my wrist, admiring the chic exoticism.
“He won’t thank you for that when you’re gone,” Dora said, her tone edged with something green and spiteful.
“Shut up, Dora. I’ve had my fill of you. You’ve been like this for ages now. If you hate Africa so much, go home. Nobody will miss you.”
She lifted her chin and for a moment I thought she was going to yell. I would have liked her better if she had. Instead she tucked her chin down again and withdrew into herself, a small dull wren with a wretched attitude.
“I’m sorry you think I’ve been difficult. But I’m not wrong. Not about that boy. Not about anything.”
And she turned on her heel and went to serve lunch.
17
The next morning I instructed the farmhands to plow the field of cannabis under and reroute the irrigation pipes to the struggling pyrethrum crop. Gideon shook his head and looked mournfully at me, but he would say nothing beyond, “This was not wise, Bibi.” He disappeared then, and I walked out to the fields to make sure the farmhands were doing as instructed.
I was standing propped against a tree and watching them when Rex strode up behind me. He was dressed for town with a lightweight suit and a freshly shaven chin.
“Good morning, Rex.”
He didn’t bother with a greeting. “I came to see if you were all right.”
“Surely you didn’t walk all the way from your farm dressed like that.”
He didn’t smile. “I’m on my way into Nairobi. I left the car on the road.” He paused, his eyes searching my face. “You haven’t answered. Are you all right?”
I smiled. “It would take a bit more than an oaf like Gates to rattle me. I’m just sorry I wasted two bullets making my point. Those rounds are damned expensive.”
His expression relaxed then, and he even attempted a small smile. “I’m glad to hear it. I hate you living here so unprotected.”
“I can take care of myself, Rex.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.” He stepped forward and laid his hands on my shoulders. “Delilah, things are changing. Things I can’t discuss just yet. I wish I could talk to you, tell you everything. But that just isn’t possible. I can only say that you are important to me, terribly important. And your safety is paramount.”
If that little speech was meant to comfort me, all it did was muddy the waters. And to add to the confusion, he suddenly bent his head and kissed me on the cheek, hard and quick.
He released me and turned on his heel, striding back in the direction he’d come. I stood staring after him, trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.
Dora walked over. “What was Rex doing here?”
“Making certain we were all right.”
“By kissing you?”
“So you saw that, did you?”
“It was difficult to miss.” She gave a little sigh. “Delilah, he’s married.”
“I know that,” I told her, my voice sharp with indignation. “I didn’t kiss him. He kissed me.”
“I didn’t see you push him away.” I didn’t answer. “Would you have if he had continued?”
“I don’t deal in hypotheticals,” I said loftily.
“Delilah, really. You can’t go on like this, doing what
ever you like with no thought to the consequences. One of these days someone is going to get very badly hurt in your little games.”
Her blood was hot for once. Her hands, her capable, quiet Dora hands, were balled into fists at her sides, and she was flushed.
“You shouldn’t let your temper get the better of you,” I told her. “It makes your complexion go blotchy.”
She took a step forward. “I mean it, Delilah. You can joke all you want and pretend nothing is serious. But other people have feelings, too, you know. And those feelings can run quite deep.”
I folded my arms. “Whose feelings are we talking about? Helen’s? Because Rex seems to be fairly far down on her list of people to do these days. And if he comes sniffing around me, maybe it’s because he’s a little lonely, have you ever thought of that?”
The colour in her face ebbed a little. “What are you saying? Have you started an affair with Rex already?”
“Of course not.” My teeth snapped hard on the words. She was pushing me past even my endurance. “And I don’t intend to. We’re just friends—not that it’s any of your business. But if I did, I don’t think it would be the worst thing anyone has ever done. They have an open marriage.”
“People always say they have an open marriage when they’re trying to justify their adultery.”
“What do you want from me, Dora? You know what I am. You’ve known me longer than anyone and you know I do as I please. Leopards don’t change their spots.”
I walked away from her then, leaving her to oversee the destruction of the cannabis field. I could feel her eyes boring into me as I left.
We didn’t speak the rest of that day, but in the evening a messenger came with a handwritten invitation from Helen. I shoved it back into the envelope but not before Dora had spotted the handwriting.
“Is that a summons?” she asked coldly.
“She’s having a party tomorrow and I am invited.”
“Just you?” There was an ugly note of triumph in her voice and I knew she was hoping that Helen planned to put me straight about any possible involvement with Rex. Of course, I wasn’t planning an involvement with Rex, but it was easy to see how our friendship could be misconstrued. True, he was older, but still handsome and with a vitality that could easily put men half his age to shame. And Rex was solid as Stonehenge. He was established, with an air of command that put him head and shoulders above most men. Kit paled in comparison, and although my afternoons with him were deeply pleasurable, even pleasure palls when it has nothing else going for it. As for Ryder...I pushed all thoughts of him aside, as I had been doing since he left on safari. There was no point in thinking about Ryder. No, Rex was a friend. Under other circumstances, he could have been more, but I was behaving perfectly well where he was concerned. It irritated me to no end that Dora refused to see that. I didn’t like having to explain myself to anyone, least of all a wet rag like Dodo.
I smoothed the envelope and slipped it into my pocket.
“Yes. Just me.”
* * *
The next evening Kit came to collect me before the party. I was still dressing when he arrived, tying on my black silk ribbon. I wore Moses’ bracelet to add a touch of the exotic, and I had varnished my nails a poison-green to match my beaded dress. My dancing shoes were walking sin—the highest heels I owned and designed to make a man look twice. Kit gave a low whistle as he stood in the doorway of my bedroom.
“Didn’t anybody ever tell you it’s bad manners to invite yourself into a lady’s boudoir?”
He held up the dangling ends of his bow tie. “I never was very good with these things. Help.”
“You’re thirty-five, Kit. How have you never managed to learn how to tie a bow tie?”
He shrugged. “Rebellion against the establishment. Besides, I usually wear a cravat. Much less fuss and you can always tie someone up with it,” he said, leering a little.
I slid the tie out from under his collar. “And you think you can’t have fun with a bow tie? Fine, I’ll teach you how to tie it. But pay close attention.”
I propped my foot on the dressing stool and slid my dress up slowly. I slipped the tie behind my thigh and brought the ends forward.
“Now, you see how one end is longer than the other? Bring that across, and over and up from behind. Like this.”
He put out his hand and I slapped it away. “Mind your manners. Pull the ends nice and tight, as snug as you can. This is where it gets tricky, so pay attention.” I shifted the short end into position and wrapped the long end firmly around it. “Pretend it’s a butterfly and hold the two wings together,” I instructed, pinching the two loops tightly in one hand. “Now, you see the hole back here? All you do is push this bit all the way through. Then drop your hands. The wings will fan back out and you just have to give them a little tweak. Nothing to it.” I turned my thigh this way and that for him to admire my handiwork.
He reached out again and I slapped his hand a second time. “Naughty, naughty.” I untied the bow and draped it over his shoulder. “Your turn.”
I spun him around to face the mirror and raised my hands under his arms to help him. It took him the better part of ten minutes to get it right and four more smacks to the hand, but he mastered it and stepped back, preening a little as he shot his cuffs over a sharp gold wristwatch I hadn’t seen before. The art business must have been improving, I decided.
“Quite dapper,” he said. “But I still say you’re a cold little tease to do that to a man and not lend him a helping hand.” He took my hand in his and laid it flat against his belly. He began to slide it lower down, his eyes never leaving mine.
Just as I touched the button on his trousers, I lifted my hand away. “But now you have something to think about during dinner.”
On the way out, I poked my head into the drawing room, but Dora was busy eating her heart out and sticking things into a scrapbook. She didn’t look up when Kit and I walked through, but I could feel her thinking about us.
“Good evening, Dora,” Kit said. There was a note of laughter, barely suppressed in his voice. Dora flushed deeply and murmured a greeting.
“Have fun with your glue pot,” I called as I slammed the front door. I fairly ran to the car and threw myself in. The night was warm and Kit drove fast, racing the moon as it rose high and full over the landscape. The house was ablaze with lights, and one of the native servants opened the door to us.
“Memsa will receive you in the bath,” he said, escorting us to Helen’s suite. I darted a glance at Kit, but he merely smiled. The servant tapped and opened the door without waiting. The famous pink quartz bathtub was filled nearly to the brim with rose-scented water. Helen was stretched out, her white breasts and knees rising over the foaming water, an aging Aphrodite.
“Darlings! I’m so glad you could come. Help yourselves to a drink.”
There was a drinks tray set up on her vanity and Kit poured us each a stiff gin. The Pembertons, newly back from the coast, were already there. Gervase was standing in the corner nursing his glass while Bianca sat on the closed toilet, fiddling with a silver syringe.
“Dear Bianca, always so clever with a needle,” Helen said with a malicious laugh. Bunny Stevenson perched on the edge of the bath, playfully flipping water at Helen’s nipples. She splashed water back on him, soaking his shirtfront until she subsided into gales of laughter. It seemed forced, that laughter—brittle and hectic—and I wondered if she had helped herself to Bianca’s drugs.
“Well, if I’d known we were dining in the bathroom, I wouldn’t have bothered to do my hair,” I said coolly. “The humidity will wreck it.”
Helen waved a soapy hand. “Never fear, darling. We’re finished up in here. Let’s have dinner, shall we?” She rose and the doctor handed her a towel. She didn’t bother to dry herself. She wrapped her wet body in a peignoir of pale pink
silk dripping in marabou feathers. The damp patches turned the fabric transparent and clinging.
She put an arm through mine like a gossipy schoolgirl sharing confidences. “I am passionate about history. Did you know French queens and courtesans received their guests in the bath? And Regency belles used to dampen the chemises they wore under their dresses to show off their figures. I’m just paying homage to history,” she insisted before indulging in another fit of laughter.
I didn’t bother to answer her. I doubted she would notice. She ushered us into the dining room where I was surprised to find Mr. Halliwell looking only a little uncomfortable. Helen sidled up to him, pressing her breasts against his arm.
“I’m so glad you came, Lawrence. I was afraid that after last time, you might be afraid to,” she said. She pulled a feather from her sleeve and tickled him with it. I glanced at Kit, but he merely shot me a mischievous look, and I realised he must have known what sort of mood Helen would be in before we arrived. And not telling me about it was payment in kind for teasing him with the bow tie.
We had just started on the soup when the door opened. “I do hope I’m not too late.”
I looked up and for a split second forgot how to breathe. I had never seen Ryder in anything other than his bush clothes. He cleaned up well. His hair was slicked back and much darker. The always-present five o’clock shadow had been neatly barbered off, and he was dressed impeccably in a black evening suit with starched shirt. Only the gold earrings in his ears gave him away for the pirate he was. He slid into the chair next to me and I saw the tiny thread of dried blood just beneath his ear where he had nicked himself shaving. I had a sudden urge to put out my tongue and taste it. He swivelled his head then, and I dropped my eyes. The servants jumped to bring him a plate of soup.
The others greeted him, but I applied myself to my soup. After a moment, the conversations broke off into smaller groups, and he leaned close, his lips near enough to my ear to raise gooseflesh. “I hear you’ve had some trouble.”
A Spear of Summer Grass Page 23
