A Wedding at Leopard Tree Lodge

by Liz Fielding

  She shook her head.

  ‘The first European to see it was Dr David Livingstone. He did what all good explorers do and named it after the reigning monarch.’

  She frowned. ‘Livingstone? Nineteenth century? Queen Victoria…’ Then, as she caught up, ‘The Victoria Falls?’ She looked from him to the mist, closer now. ‘I had no idea it was so near. Is that the spray?’

  ‘That’s the spray,’ he confirmed, picking up the radio and calling air traffic control. Then, ‘Make the most of it if you want pictures; I can only go round once.’

  Josie had her cellphone with her, but she left that in her bag. She didn’t want to look at one of the natural wonders of the world through a viewfinder; she wanted to see it, feel it at first hand.

  As he circled she could see that it wasn’t an open waterfall like Niagara, but dropped, over a mile wide, into a deep gorge. The size, the scale of it was awesome, breathtaking and she didn’t say a word until, a few minutes later, they had landed on the Zambian side of the Falls.

  ‘That was incredible, Gideon. Thank you so much.’ Then, ‘I’m sorry for being such a—’

  ‘Don’t,’ he said, pressing his fingers to her lips to stop the word. ‘Don’t apologise for saying what you thought, felt. You were honest.’ Then, letting his hand drop, ‘Do you want to take a closer look?’

  At that moment the only thing she wanted to get closer to was him, but he had already turned to a waiting car.

  ‘Gideon, man! Good to see you,’ the driver said.

  They did that man-hug thing and then Gideon turned to her. ‘Josie, this is Rupe. Rupe, Josie.’

  ‘Let me guess,’ she said, a little overwhelmed that he’d not only thought to bring her here, but had arranged a car to pick them up. But then that was his business… ‘You’ve been here before.’

  ‘One of my earliest ventures was organising trips for the bungee jumping nuts. From that,’ he said as they passed a great wrought iron bridge laced with a rainbow where the mist was lit up by the sun. ‘It’s still a favourite.’

  ‘Have you ever tried it?’

  He just grinned. Of course he had.

  ‘Before you suggest it,’ she said, hurriedly, ‘no. Definitely, absolutely, a thousand times no.’

  ‘Smart woman,’ he replied. Then, ‘Here we are.’

  He got out first, offered her his hand as if she were visiting royalty, walked her across to a point where there was a clear view of the mighty Zambezi pouring into the gorge in a dizzying rush.

  ‘Words are inadequate,’ she said after a while.

  ‘Did you bring a camera?’ he asked. ‘I’ll take your photograph.’

  ‘Just this,’ she said, handing him her phone.

  ‘You should be looking at the Falls, not me,’ he said. She turned obediently.

  ‘Do you want me to take one of the two of you?’ Rupe said.

  Before she could rescue him from the embarrassment, Gideon had handed the cellphone to Rupe, put his arm around her and, looking down at her, said, ‘Say, cheese, Josie.’

  ‘Cheese, Josie.’

  ‘Okay. Let’s eat,’ he said, retrieving her phone, checking the picture before handing it back to her, glancing at his watch. ‘Pick us up in half an hour, Rupe,’ he said, taking a cold bag the man was holding. ‘Come on, this way. Take care; the steps are wet. Better hold my hand.’

  He went first, leading her down steps cut from the rock that led down into the depths of the gorge. He didn’t go far before he placed the cold box on a large flat rock.

  ‘Help yourself to a step,’ he said. ‘It’s not the Ritz but the service is quick,’ he said. ‘Soda or water?’

  ‘Water, please,’ she said, and held the bottle to the pulse throbbing in her neck, before opening it and taking a mouthful.

  ‘This is amazing,’ she said. Everywhere was overgrown with ferns and tropical plants dripping with moisture in the steamy atmosphere. It reminded her of the tropical hothouse at Kew, except this was the real thing. ‘A bit Garden of Edenish.’

  And they were the only people in it.

  He looked in the box. ‘Sorry, no apples. There’s a naartje, will that do?’

  ‘Tell me what it is and I’ll let you know.’

  ‘A small orange—a bit like a tangerine,’ he said, showing her.

  ‘It’s green.’

  ‘It’s ripe, I promise.’

  ‘Okay, hand it over. What else have you got in there?’

  ‘Nothing exciting. Sandwiches. A Scotch egg. I’ll do better next time.’

  Next time? He was saying that there would be a next time? No… But she couldn’t believe how much she wanted there to be a next time.

  ‘Cheese, egg, salad?’ he said, looking up, catching her staring.

  ‘Salad. Thanks,’ she said quickly.

  ‘Are you okay, Josie?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said quickly. Then, because he was still looking at her, ‘No…’

  Next time meant a future and that meant telling him everything, just as she’d told Sylvie when she’d offered her a job. Because she had a right to know and if she hadn’t been honest someone else would have told her. Warned her…

  And she had to do it now, before there was the possibility of any next time. Before they went back to Leopard Tree Lodge. Now…

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Create a fragrant memory for your guests by choosing wedding flowers with beautiful and distinctive scents.

  —The Perfect Wedding by Serafina March

  JOSIE put down the sandwich, rubbed the back of her hand over her forehead.

  ‘You asked me if I trusted you,’ she said.

  He handed her a sandwich, leaned back against the rock. ‘You answered that by getting into a plane with me, even though you didn’t know where I was taking you.’

  ‘That was a physical thing. The trust that you wouldn’t hurt me.’

  ‘Not intentionally,’ he said. ‘I understood the qualification. The vulnerability we all feel when we open ourselves up to someone. Expose our weaknesses, our fears.’

  ‘You said it was the most we could hope for,’ she said, looking up at him, trying to see behind those dark eyes. Find something in them to reassure her that he would understand what she was about to tell him. ‘Will you kiss me, Gideon?’

  Gideon felt the plastic pack collapse beneath his fingers, crushing the sandwich inside.

  Would he kiss her?

  Did she have any idea what she was asking?

  Last night, as they’d worked together, knowing that she was doing everything she could to distract him from asking her about her past, all he’d wanted to do was hold her, tell her it would be all right. Instead, he’d concentrated on the job in hand, showing her how he felt by doing what he could to help.

  He’d lain propped on his elbow half the night just watching her sleep, memorising her face. The shape of her ear, the little crease that appeared by her mouth from time to time as if she were smiling in her dreams, the long inviting curve of her neck.

  She had no way of knowing that when she’d leaned her head against his back this morning in the canoe, a wordless gesture that was more speaking than a thousand thanks, he’d had to force himself to walk away before he did something stupid. He’d seen how she’d reacted to a kiss that she hadn’t seen coming. The fear…

  When he’d seen that idiot Darren Buck shouting at her, it had taken every atom of self-control to stop himself from grabbing the man and pitching him bodily out of the Lodge.

  Now, because of something he’d just said, she’d decided this was the moment to share whatever horror lurked in her past. What? What had he said? He reran the last few moments in his head.

  Next time…

  The words dropped into the waiting slot with an almost audible clunk. He’d said them without thinking, because he hadn’t needed to think about it. This was different from his earlier attempts to move on, date. That had taken effort. This was—had been from the moment he’d first set eyes on Josie
—effortless.

  Next time. The possibility of a future…

  But first she had to lay the ghosts of her past. And she was asking him to kiss her now, before she told him, because she was afraid that afterwards, when he knew, he might not want to.

  Would he kiss her? In a heartbeat.

  Should he?

  Suppose, afterwards, he was so repelled by what she told him that he couldn’t bring himself to kiss her again? How much worse would she feel then? How could he live with himself if he confirmed everything that she most feared?

  Not intentionally…

  She was looking up at him with those huge, impossibly violet eyes. The same eyes that had wept for her mother last night, had looked at him with such compassion as he’d spilled out his heartache, guilt. Could he do any less for her?

  He dropped the sandwich back into the cold box, squeezed himself onto the step beside her.

  ‘Sure?’ he asked, hoping that she wouldn’t pick up on the uncertainty in his voice.

  ‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked…’

  ‘Be still,’ he said. Then again as, startled, she looked up at him and he captured her face between his hands, lowered his lips to hers, ‘Be still…’

  Her lips were soft, strawberry-flavoured, sweet and he was trembling as he fought to keep his kiss light, tender, when everything was telling him to go for broke, take her over the edge so that she would forget whatever nightmare she was about to reveal. To make her his, there in a steamy grotto as old as time.

  Or was it Josie who was trembling?

  He leaned back, looked down at her. ‘Okay?’

  She nodded and he put an arm around her shoulder so that she could lean into him, so that she wouldn’t have to look at him. So that she couldn’t see his face.

  She didn’t speak for a while, and when she did it was about those last months with her mother. ‘She was terrified of hospitals, Gideon, wanted to die at home.’

  ‘You nursed her? How long?’ he prompted when the pause had gone on too long.

  ‘Months. Six, seven, maybe. Alec didn’t help much.’

  ‘Alec? He was your stepfather? What happened to your father?’

  ‘He was killed in the first Gulf war. It was really hard for her and Alec was funny, charming, had all the moves and Mum must have been desperately lonely. She also had the house that her parents had left her, a war widow’s pension and a nice little part-time job. He couldn’t wait to move in. But Mum didn’t do that. He had to marry her before he could get his feet under the table.’

  ‘And you? Did he ever touch you?’

  ‘No. He knew I could see right through him, would have leapt at the chance to get him out of the house. He was always very careful around me.’ Then she drew back, looked at him. ‘That’s what you thought when I freaked out?’

  ‘It crossed my mind.’

  ‘No one hurt me like that, Gideon. It’s just losing control. That’s what sex is about, isn’t it? Surrendering yourself totally?’

  It was a question, not a statement, as if she was seeking confirmation. As if it was something she’d never done.

  ‘It’s an equal surrender, Josie. A mutual gift.’

  ‘Equal?’ It was as if some light had gone on inside her head. ‘I never thought of it like that.’

  It was true. He could scarcely believe it, but this feisty, modern, in-your-face woman didn’t know. Had never experienced it for herself. Turned off, maybe, by the smooth operator who’d taken advantage of her mother. Seen it as a weapon…

  ‘What happened, Josie?’ he said, rather more urgently.

  ‘The nurse who came in twice a day told me to go out, take a walk around the park, get some fresh air. That she’d sit with my mother. Alec was at work so I felt safe leaving her. It was a lovely day. I sat on a bench in the sun near the roses, sucking up the scent. I fell asleep, Gideon. I was gone for over an hour and when I got back the only person home was Alec. He said that my mother had started to fit just after the nurse left and he hadn’t known what to do so he’d called an ambulance. He’d been waiting to tell me. By the time I got to the hospital they had her hooked up to all kinds of machines, exactly what she’d feared.’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault, Josie.’

  ‘Of course it was.’ She shook her head. ‘I stayed with her for three days. He never once came near and when I went home to tell him that his wife, my mother, was dead, I found him sitting in her kitchen with the barmaid from the Red Lion. She was wearing one of my mother’s dressing gowns, drinking tea from one of her cups…’

  ‘Oh, love,’ he said, but she shrugged off his attempt to comfort her.

  ‘I went crazy, Gideon. Lost control. I smashed the cup from the woman’s hands. Smashed everything from the table. The teapot went flying and she began to scream that she was scalded and, as Alec came for me, to grab me, I suppose, stop me from doing any more damage, I picked up a chair and hit him.’

  The air was so still. Nothing stirred. And the only sound was the muffled roar of the Falls.

  ‘The police came and took me away. But I was uncontrollable and a doctor had to be called to sedate me and, when he heard what had happened, he had me sectioned under the Mental Health Act. Locked up for twenty-eight days for my own safety.’

  Josie swallowed hard, her throat tight with anger, even now. But it had been her fault her mother had died in hospital. Her fault she wasn’t there to see her decently laid to rest.

  ‘I was never charged with anything.’

  ‘Well, that’s something, I suppose. Hospital has to be better than prison.’

  She turned on him. ‘Do you think so? Do you really think so?’ she demanded. ‘Being banged up for assault would at least have given me some kind of street cred but there’s a stigma to mental illness that you can never shake off. I was in there for six months, Gideon.’

  ‘Six months? But you weren’t sick; you were angry, grieving…’

  ‘I hurt two people, Gideon. When I realised, understood what I’d done, I was appalled. But sorry is just a word. Anyone can say it. I was watched, monitored, drugged until I learned to control every emotion. Eventually, when I was good and obedient and stopped fighting them, they let me go.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I went home.’ She could still remember exactly how she’d felt walking up to the door of her home. Having to knock. The door being opened by someone she didn’t know. But even then she hadn’t understood… ‘He’d sold my mother’s house. There were strangers living there. Other people’s children playing on the swing my dad built for me.’

  ‘But your life was there. How could he do that?’

  ‘There was an old will leaving everything to me that she’d made after my dad died, but apparently they become invalid the minute you marry. My mother couldn’t have known that and, as her husband, Alec automatically inherited everything. I went next door to a neighbour to find out where he’d gone. I didn’t want to cause trouble,’ she said quickly. ‘The last thing I wanted was to go back into that hospital. But I didn’t have any clothes. Nothing. Not even a photograph of my mum, my dad. His medals…’

  She heard the crunch as the plastic sandwich carton she was still holding crushed between her hands and Gideon unhooked his arm from around her shoulder, took it from her, stood up to dump it in the box. He took out a bottle of water, opened it, took a long drink.

  ‘The neighbour?’ he asked when he finally turned back to face her. ‘What did she do?’

  She shook her head. It didn’t matter. She’d seen his reaction. He couldn’t wait to put some distance between them. Couldn’t bear to look at her.

  ‘Josie?’

  ‘She told me to wait. Shut the door on me while she called Social Services to come and get me. She was afraid of me.’ She’d never forget that look. ‘She’d known me all my life but she was terrified.’

  She sighed.

  ‘I was found a place in a hostel, a job in a hotel kitchen whe
re the most important thing I was trusted to do was scrub pots. Obviously I couldn’t be trusted to peel vegetables. That would have meant giving me a knife.’

  ‘Wasn’t there anyone you could turn to?’

  ‘You think I’d have lived in that horrible place if there was?’ she snapped. This was so not like telling Sylvie. She’d just listened. No questions. Just let it all come out. Then she’d made her a cup of tea and asked her if she wanted the job. End of story. Not this…anger.

  ‘I’d gone berserk, Gideon. Scalded a woman for daring to drink out of one my mother’s cups,’ she said, cutting it short, wanting it over. ‘Brought a chair down on my stepfather’s head. Would you want me in your house?’ She didn’t wait for an answer. The Garden of Eden had lost its charm and she stood up. ‘It’s hot down here. I’m going back up—’

  ‘Someone wanted you,’ he reminded her before she’d taken a second step. ‘Sylvie.’

  Sylvie. Just the name was enough to bring her back from that dark place. ‘You called her my fairy godmother and she was. Still is. She’d been let down by the agency supplying waiters for a reception at the hotel and the duty manager rounded up anyone he could find to fill in. You can tell how desperate he was…’

  She’d done the work of five that night, bossing the chambermaids who hadn’t got a clue—after all, no one in their right mind was going to argue with her—made sure the food and drink kept coming. Whisked away a very drunk actress who was about to make a fool of herself and found her a room where she could sleep it off. She’d seen an opportunity to impress and seized it with both hands.

  ‘You must have been amazingly good for her to take you on without experience,’ Gideon said.

  ‘I just wanted it more. I was the only one who stayed to help her clear up when it was all over. Help her pack up her stuff. Sylvie comes from some really swanky aristocratic family but she’d had a rough time, lost her mother, her home, too. We bonded, I suppose.’

  She took another step.

  ‘How long has it been? Since the scullery.’

  ‘Nearly five years.’

  ‘And now you’re here, taking charge of the most important wedding of the season.’