Storms Over Africa

by Beverley Harper

  Penny arrived in her own car on Christmas Eve, bearing beautifully wrapped mysterious packages. She and David actually worked together at arranging presents around the tree.

  The house gleamed under all the extra lights and, that night, the family sat together and enjoyed roast turkey and cranberry sauce with all the trimmings. They spoke of Kathy, of ambitions past and present and of funny happenings. David had them rolling with a story about a junior at his school who had been picked up bodily by some seniors and hung on a clothes peg by his jacket collar. The hapless boy stayed there, with his feet 30 centimetres from the floor, until a passing master rescued him two hours later.

  ‘Who would be that cruel?’ Penny asked.

  ‘Me,’ David grinned at her.

  Wellington, as he cleared the table around them, enthralled them with a tale about a wild pig in his village. The warthog had adopted the village as his home but his foraging for food had been a constant headache to the farmers. Try as they might, they could not keep the animal out of their crops. They barricaded their fields with thorn tree branches but he always found a way in. They chased him away with sticks and stones but he always came back. They posted watchmen but he always slipped through them. Willing to try anything, they rigged up an ancient, manually operated His Master’s Voice record player. One of the villagers owned a collection of old 78s, including a rendition of ‘Ah Sweet Mystery of Life At Last I’ve Found You’ by Gracie Fields. Through a complicated sequence of signals, the message went down the line: ‘The pig’s here.’ Hidden in the bushes, the owner of the record player let her rip, full volume. The traumatised warthog fled, and disappeared forever.

  Richard, listening to the conversation, found himself thinking that this was the way things would always have been if Kathy were still alive. But he was too contented to let that thought depress him.

  The next morning the ritual began. Wellington had been up for hours, preparing food and laying the table on the lawn. The singing and drum banging heralded the arrival of the workers. They treated the Dunn family to half an hour of carols before they stopped. Richard, Penny and David mingled with everyone, holding new babies, discussing medical problems with the women, chatting to the men. Small children hung shyly behind their mother’s skirts. Older, bolder children ran around playing tag. Winston was in heaven, dozens of willing hands to throw his tennis ball. Then the magical moment came when Richard asked everyone to sit down. They sat on the lawn and the only sound to be heard was that of a wood dove in the distance.

  Penny and David stood beside Richard, ready to hand out the gifts. He closed his eyes, reached into the crate, pulled out the first present and said, ‘Jonno Makela.’ Christmas had begun.

  Several hours later the lawn looked like a bombsite. The workers were departing, singing ‘Silent Night’, which they always left until the last. Winston was exhausted, lying under a tree, panting. Out of the corner of his eye Richard saw Samson sneaking into the house with the puppy. Samson, or his wife, had placed a green ribbon around the animal’s neck.

  Later in the day he decided it had been a good Christmas. David had been delighted with his puppy. Likewise, Penny with her necklace, although she had baulked slightly at the stuffed dog. She had shown forethought in her gifts, giving David a good camera which he needed and Richard a book about the construction of Lake Kariba he had been trying to get for ages. David had a beautiful handmade Shetland sweater for Penny and leather gloves for his father. Both his children claimed he had been too generous. It had been a good day.

  On Boxing Day the planets, or whatever it was which had made the past few days so pleasant, went haywire. It started with a telephone call for Penny from Joseph Tshuma to wish her a happy Christmas. Richard took the call and lied, saying he did not think his daughter was around but Penny happened to be passing and heard him. When she came off the telephone she tackled him about it. He tried to shrug it off but she persisted. Finally he said, ‘I didn’t want to spoil things.’

  ‘I wanted to hear from him, Daddy.’

  ‘I didn’t.’

  A small spat followed, nothing monumental, just enough to sour things between them. Then David backed the Land Rover into a low rock wall. The vehicle was unmarked but the wall collapsed, crushing one of Kathy’s best-loved shrubs. Setting the table for lunch Wellington slipped on a puppy puddle on the polished floor and hurt his arm sufficiently so he was unable to work. Angry about the shrub, Richard booted the puppy outside and told David to clean up the puddle. David then took his puppy for a walk and was late back for lunch which Penny had prepared so the two of them had an argument.

  After lunch Samson informed Richard that one of the bulls had gone through a fence and was happily impregnating some heifers who were too young to calve. He had just sorted that mess out when one of his neighbours arrived for a Christmas drink. Richard liked Colin Armstrong but could not stand his wife, Lindy. For starters, she always called him Dickie, a name for which he had a profound dislike. He had told her this but she still called him Dickie. She was a haughtily beautiful woman who, on three occasions in the past when she was drunk enough, had made a pass at him. Richard drew the line at bedding the wives of friends. Lindy never forgave his rejection and went out of her way to make him feel uncomfortable.

  The Armstrongs stayed for dinner which put Penny under pressure since Wellington was still out of action. Lindy infuriated Richard by bailing him up in the hall and whispering, ‘You must miss Kathy at Christmas, Dickie,’ while at the same time pawing his arm with her hand. David caught them and his face closed. He could never accept other women in the place of his mother and wrongly assumed his father was playing around with Lindy. Colin Armstrong, oblivious to whatever game his wife was playing, related a long and boring tale about fixing his tractor and Richard kept having to move his feet away from Lindy under the table.

  When the Armstrongs left, Penny sarcastically suggested David might like to clear the dishes from the table. The puppy had broken into the kitchen and piddled on the floor. Winston, whose nose was totally out of joint by the arrival of the puppy, sulked in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room and refused to budge so everyone had to step over him. Richard, thoroughly out of sorts, was not amused when Samson arrived and said the bull had got into the heifer pen again.

  David halfheartedly helped Penny. Richard went off with Samson to recapture his oversexed bull. Joseph Tshuma telephoned again while Penny and David were halfway through the dishes and she deliberately talked to him long enough so that David finished the job on his own. No-one was openly fighting but no-one particularly liked anyone else either. To cap it off, David chained his puppy up for the night and the animal howled and yelped nonstop, the noise finally stopping around four in the morning when, exhausted, the puppy fell asleep.

  They were still grumpy with each other the next day. Penny left for Harare earlier than necessary, the stuffed dog making the return journey the same way as it had come, strapped into the passenger seat. David said he wanted to call his puppy Maxwell and Penny, as she put her car into gear said, ‘That’s the stupidest name I’ve ever heard.’

  Richard said he liked the name just to spite her.

  EIGHT

  The slaughter of the elephants hit the headlines in the new year. The media tried to link the mysterious disappearance of Janie Roos to what had taken place in the game reserve but dropped the story as unlikely as soon as his medical condition became known. Gabriel Tenneka was never mentioned and his prolonged ‘business trip’ to London was not connected to the carnage. Mannus, Toby and John had melted into urban obscurity, shielded by their families and friends, a fact Norman May disgruntledly passed to Richard.

  David spent most of the remainder of his holidays in the reserve helping Adam. The head ranger had been severely affected by the loss of his men and the senseless slaughter of the elephants. Police inquiries appeared to go nowhere. ‘It’ll go down as one of Africa’s little mysteries, you wait and see,’ he told Davi
d angrily. And that is what happened. The media dropped the story completely after three days. The police followed their example two days after that, preferring to concentrate on urban crime which had become so endemic in Harare that the murder of two men and the loss of wild animals paled into insignificance. Only Game Department, urged on by Joseph Tshuma for his own reasons, continued with the investigation.

  David had to be back at school by 12 January. It was never easy for him to leave Pentland Park but he particularly hated going back after Christmas. Scotland was in the thick of its winter and the air outside was so cold it made his ears ache. The draughty halls and stairs of his boarding school, coupled with the stuffy and overheated classrooms and dormitories, guaranteed he’d catch a cold almost as soon as he got back. His suntan was resented by other, less fortunate souls who spent Christmas in the dark cold of winter. It was the time he missed Africa most.

  Never particularly pleased with living so far from home, he had reached a stage where he barely tolerated it, knowing the end was only six months away. He went for his A Levels in the fourth term which meant a great deal of study and revising in this forthcoming third term. A good pass would guarantee him a place in a South African university, and while he was impatient to finish with schooling altogether, he realised he needed qualifications if he wanted to work in his chosen field.

  The hot air blowing in the car window on their way down to Harare taunted him. In forty-eight hours he would be rugged up and freezing.

  He liked Scotland, and was perfectly happy once he was there. He loved both sets of his grandparents and was free to spend weekends with them whenever he could. It was leaving Africa which was hard.

  ‘You’re quiet, son.’

  ‘The usual, Dad.’ Richard was aware of his son’s reluctance to return to school.

  ‘Nearly finished. One more holiday out here and then it’s over. Are you confident about the exams?’

  ‘I think I’ll get through okay.’

  ‘Haven’t seen much studying this holiday.’

  ‘I’m on top of it, Dad.’

  The rest of the trip was in silence. As they checked into Meikles, Richard bumped into a woman he knew. Before he could stop himself, he had invited her to have dinner. David declined to join them. ‘I’ll be fine, Dad. I want an early night anyway, tomorrow is a long day.’

  ‘You could phone Penny.’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ David repeated.

  Feeling somewhat of a heel Richard took the woman out to dinner. He knew he should have spent the evening with his son and daughter. ‘Kath,’ he thought, not for the first time, ‘I’m a lousy father,’ and fancied he heard her response ‘You’re not wrong.’

  Left to his own devices, David watched some television, decided to have a meal in the room, then changed his mind, dressed, and went down to the dining room. The room was full but the maítre d’hótel, knowing who he was, fussed and flapped and finally asked a young woman who was dining alone if David could join her.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind.’ David felt he was intruding.

  ‘Not at all, it’s boring eating alone.’ She smiled up at him. David decided she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. As he sat down he glanced around the crowded room for his father but there was no sign of him. Richard must have taken his date somewhere else. David was relieved.

  She had not yet ordered so they discussed the menu. There were a number of dishes on it she had never heard of. ‘What’s piri piri?’

  ‘It’s a kind of chilli except I think it tastes better.’

  ‘Sounds good. I think I’ll have some of the piri piri chicken.’

  ‘Don’t you have piri piri in Australia?’ David had picked up her accent.

  ‘Not as far as I know.’ She laughed. ‘Steak, egg and chips is the main fare over there.’ She reached over the table to shake his hand. ‘My name’s Steve,’ she said. ‘Steve Hayes.’

  There was quite a lot of noise in the dining room and they had to raise their voices.

  ‘David Dunn,’ he said, but a burst of laughter from the next table prevented her from hearing and she cupped her hand over her ear and leaned towards him. ‘David,’ he bawled into her ear and she nodded she had heard. The laughter died down and he queried her name.

  ‘Steve,’ she affirmed, nodding.

  ‘That’s not a girl’s name.’

  ‘I know. If I tell you my real name, promise you won’t use it?’

  ‘I promise,’ he agreed, smiling.

  ‘My parents called me Stephanie. I hate it.’

  ‘Okay, Steve it is.’

  He looked at her, liking her. He found it hard to judge her age. She was slim and tanned, with blonde hair tucked up into a knot and wispy bits floating around her face. As far as he could tell, she wore no makeup. Her eyes were startling, aquamarine blue framed with long, thick, dark lashes. She had a wide smile and very white even teeth. He guessed she had to be about Penny’s age.

  ‘How long have you been in Zimbabwe?’

  She looked at her watch. ‘Three hours.’

  Despite his youth, David had always been relaxed in the company of older women. With girls his own age he was reduced to a blushing, bumbling fool, especially when they giggled at what appeared to be a secret known only to them. He was not having a problem talking to Steve.

  ‘Why have you come here?’

  ‘I’m a photojournalist. One of the big magazines in Oz wants a feature on wildlife. I’m on assignment.’

  She was talking his language. They spent ten minutes discussing the subject. Finally she said, ‘I take it you’re a local.’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘What are you doing here in the hotel?’

  ‘I’m off to the UK tomorrow.’

  ‘For good?’

  Something made him hide the fact that he was returning to school. ‘No, couple of months is all.’

  She cocked her head sideways. ‘How old are you, David?’

  He looked her straight in the eyes. ‘Nineteen,’ he lied.

  ‘Join me in some wine?’ she invited.

  He did not bat an eyelid. ‘Sounds fine but don’t go for the local stuff. Zimbabwe hasn’t cracked the art yet. Let’s get a bottle of South African wine.’ He had heard his father say something similar once.

  Over the meal and the wine Steve told him something about herself. She was a freelance photojournalist, based in Sydney, and had always had a hankering to see Africa. ‘I might stay on once the assignment is finished,’ she told him. ‘Australia is always keen on stories about Africa. I could make quite a killing out here.’ Steve told him about Sydney. ‘It’s a beautiful city, David, sprawling around a harbour. There’s water everywhere, traffic everywhere, and people everywhere from all over the world.’ She told him about Australia. ‘The distances are so vast. Miles and miles of flat open country. Drought-stricken one year, flooded the next, bushfires the next, it’s never the same.’ Steve never once told him her age.

  David paced his drinking during the meal and Steve had more than half the bottle. Used to drinking in small quantities, alcohol was not new to him. He had been allowed the odd beer since he was sixteen and a small glass of wine on special occasions since he was ten. His father was fond of saying that if children had access to alcohol early on it would not hold the same fascination for them when they were legally at an age where they could drink. His theory was only half right since Penny very often drank too much.

  David found Steve fascinating. She had a great sense of humour and was full of amusing stories. She was not loud or flamboyant but others in the room kept looking her way, attracted by her looks and her obvious sense of fun. There was a freedom in her movements which made other women jealous and the men wistful. She was like a sprite.

  After their meal she suggested a nightcap but David, knowing he would not be allowed into the bar and wishing to avoid the embarrassment of having his true age revealed, replied, ‘It’ll be crowded and noisy in there.’

  �
��I’ve got some beers and a bottle of scotch in my room, how about that?’

  He was getting out of his depth and he knew it. ‘Great idea.’ He was amazed at his own cool.

  The maítre d’hótel watched them go with a grin. ‘Like father, like son,’ he thought, envious.

  Unlike the suite Richard booked for himself and his son, Steve had a basic bedroom with bathroom attached. There being only one chair, David sat on the bed. Steve kicked off her shoes, fetched David a beer from the little bar fridge, poured herself a scotch and water and joined him, sitting cross-legged, which revealed long, slim, tanned legs as she hitched up her dress to make way for her knees. ‘Tell me about yourself,’ she invited.

  David told her about his life, stretching out the facts to allow for his stated nineteen years. He shut up when she said, ‘You’ve certainly packed a lot into your life.’

  When she asked what he did he told her, ‘I’m a university student.’

  ‘What are you studying?’

  Now he was on steady ground again. ‘Bachelor of Science, majoring in wildlife management.’ Well, it would be true next year.

  After the wine, the beer was getting to him. He lay back hoping to clear his head. She leaned over and ruffled his hair. ‘Are you feeling okay?’

  David was a virgin but he had enough of his father’s genes in him to act instinctively. He stared into her eyes, which were 15 centimetres from his own. ‘Perfectly okay,’ he said, touching, then stroking her arm. Her skin felt warm and velvety. Some wisps of hair tickled his face. He felt charged up and excited. This was better than any wet dream he had ever had.

  ‘Don’t take this the wrong way,’ she said softly, ‘but I’m feeling very alone tonight.’

  Very slowly she lowered her lips to his. He tasted the saltiness of her. He explored her mouth with his tongue, he felt her breasts crush into his chest. Then he ran his hand up her skirt.

  ‘Wait,’ she pulled back and sat up.

  ‘Wha . . .’ David’s mind had gone. Blood was drumming in his ears, his eyes refused to focus, something had happened to his breathing and his heart was hammering and jumping around in his chest.