The place looks exactly like the photographs Felicity has sent through – the big wooden lodge is in the centre of a sort of complex, with four slightly smaller buildings at each of the four corners, separated from the main lodge by wooden slatted walkways that stretch across the sand, grasses and water underneath. As we step forward, more floodlights shoot upwards from the floor and illuminate our way, and I can see tall green fronds dipping forwards, forming a little criss-cross half-canopy overhead, covering us, or trapping us in. The walkways are surrounded by grass, and though the night is still, our movement makes them rustle slightly. Beyond the lodges lie the plains – stretching out into the flat, limitless African landscape, bisected by the Limpopo river.
‘Wow,’ Alice says, as we make our way towards the central lodge, ‘she wasn’t joking, was she? This is really something.’
‘Oh my God!’ Hannah shrieks, and I spin around, but she’s smiling, pointing to a glistening blue plunge pool that stands outside one of the smaller lodges, brightly lit by more footlights.
‘There’s one for each lodge,’ Alice says, squinting in the dim light to the next lodge in the far-right corner of the main house. ‘Imagine that, a pool each! D’you reckon they’re heated?’
‘They don’t need to be here, silly,’ Hannah says, and she’s right; I can feel my knitted dress sticking to my back and wonder what on earth possessed me not to get changed into something lighter at the airport. Sweat is starting to coat my upper lip and I wipe my face self-consciously, not wanting my first meeting with Felicity to be when I’m covered in perspiration. All my foundation will be long gone, no doubt. Why didn’t I freshen up at the airport?
The lights are on in the main lodge and we reach the front door – me first, Alice next, with Hannah bringing up the rear. We hesitate suddenly, all of us frozen on the doorstep, and for a second, I feel a strange prickling sensation on my neck, as though someone, or something, is watching us. The air seems very still, save the belching of frogs, the hum of insects. I feel something land on my arm, the burr of orange wings, and jerk away rapidly. The three of us wait, and I have the odd sensation that the lodge is holding back too, its doors pulsing with anticipation.
‘What are you waiting for?’ Alice says, sharply, and at the sound of her voice I shake the feeling off, lift up a hand, and knock. As I do so, a sense of foreboding washes over me, sudden and inexplicable, as though a voice in my ear is telling me not to go any further, not to enter the lodge. But it’s too late: the wheels are in motion, and the game has begun.
Chapter Seven
Alice
Nobody answers the door when Grace knocks, so Alice steps in front of her and tries again, louder this time. Honestly. She’s got the presence of a mouse sometimes, has Grace. There’s the sound of cicadas in the air, humming madly, and Alice is in such desperate need of a shower that she is going to jump into one of these pools if Felicity doesn’t answer the door pretty sharpish.
‘Give her a call,’ Hannah says when there is still no reply, and Alice whips out her phone, relieved to find that she has a bar of signal – her data roaming must have kicked in – and WhatsApp calls Felicity. The phone rings out, the tinny sound cutting into the night air.
‘Flick!’ Hannah calls, her voice echoing slightly, but there is no sound apart from the gentle rustling of the grasses and the whisper of the insects. It all feels a million miles from Hackney.
‘Ugh, where is she?’ Alice groans, and sends her a message: We’re here! Let us in.
‘Does anyone have Nathaniel’s number, in case he is here after all?’ Grace says hesitantly, but Alice doesn’t anymore, and Hannah says she hasn’t either. The expression on her face is odd when she says so; Alice would call it defensive, if she didn’t know better, but she doesn’t push her on it. After all, she herself hasn’t exactly been forthcoming about why she no longer stores his number on her phone.
Alice gives the door a little push with her hand, not expecting anything to happen, but to her surprise, it gives.
‘Hey, it’s open!’ she says, relieved, and she pushes again, properly this time. Sure enough, the door swings back, and they are immediately met with a screen of wooden beads, presumably to keep the insects out. They rattle loudly, breaking the tension, and Alice half-laughs, batting them away with her hands. The scent of pine is strong in the air.
‘Brilliant,’ Hannah says, stepping forward through the beaded curtain, and cupping her hands around her mouth to shout. Her nails are short and stubby, chewed down to the edges. Alice wonders, briefly, what she stews over – her baby, probably.
‘Felicity! We’re here!’
Alice’s voice bounces back at them, a little bit too loud.
‘Maybe she’s in the shower?’ Grace suggests, but she looks a bit uncertain. She pulls her knitted dress down further, so that it covers her knees, and her hand goes to her collar, making sure it’s straight around her neck, as if she doesn’t want anyone looking too closely. She’s mad – she must be sweltering. Alice’s own top hangs low; she’s never been one for covering up exactly, but even so she can feel beads of perspiration gathering between her boobs which isn’t exactly pleasant.
‘There must be other people here if it’s open,’ she says, and she dumps her case down on the tiled floor and kicks off her shoes, relishing the feel of the cool floor against her hot feet. ‘Ah, that’s better. Bloody hell’ – she looks around, taking in the surroundings properly for the first time – ‘this place is amazing.’
She walks forwards, the others following, down a cool, dimly lit hallway with framed photographs hanging on the walls, depicting a variety of animals in the wild – Alice catches sight of a lion, close-up, his jaws wide open, and a zebra, spindly legs moving so quickly that they are almost a blur, black-and-white stripes against the dusty red of the earth. There’s one of a mother elephant standing with what must be her baby, their trunks touching sweetly, the Botswana plains burnt yellow in the background. Each photograph is surrounded by an ornate gold frame, making the pictures feel as though they are almost 3D, as though the animals could jump out at them through their wooden cages. Further inside, the hallway opens up to a vast living room, with walls painted a deep red and beautiful African paintings and sculptures dotted around, giving the place a vibrant yet traditional feel. Three plush sofas are set against the walls, stacked with plump, squashy cushions, artfully decorated with throws across the back. Everything looks completely pristine – trust Felicity to have got somewhere that comes with a cleaner – and presumably a driver, too. Even if he is a bit on the quiet side.
Tall bronze lamps stand on either side of each sofa, and in the centre of the room is a large, low table with a glass top. Through it, you can see the oriental rug that covers most of the floorboards, patterned with black, yellow and green triangles. Heavy floor-to-ceiling curtains hang at the windows, tied back with thick gold ropes complete with tassels, their fronds stretching down towards the floor, still and flat against the clay plaster of the wall.
Up above them, the high roof is made of wood and thatch, woven together into a point that stretches up into the sky. Beneath the rugs, the dark wooden floorboards shine in the lamplight. The whole thing feels opulent and very, very expensive.
‘Jesus,’ Hannah says, ‘this place must be costing her an absolute fortune. Isn’t it gorgeous?!’
She turns to stare at the others, a huge grin on her face, and her joy is infectious because soon Grace and Alice are smiling too, unable to believe what a luxurious place they’ve found themselves in.
‘It’s like something from a magazine,’ Grace says, her eyes like saucers, and Alice feels a rush of fondness towards her – she looks like a child somehow. She wonders how long it’s been since Grace went abroad – she never used to go much when they were growing up. Alice has always thought of her as being the most sheltered of them all. The most vulnerable, too.
Or at least, that’s what they all thought.
‘I have got to show Ch
ris,’ Hannah says, pulling out her phone and taking a photo, though Alice wonders if really she wants it to prove to Instagram that she too can live a caption-worthy lifestyle. She has seen some of the pictures Hannah posts on there – none of herself, a few of the baby looking sweet, some of artfully arranged flowers and the odd nicely jacketed book. This is going to take it to a whole new level.
‘God, look in here,’ Grace is saying, and when Alice looks round she’s disappeared from beside her. She follows Grace into the next room, and can’t stop her mouth from dropping open. One wall is entirely made of glass, facing out onto a huge veranda that stretches around the side of the lodge and must look out over the plains, although it’s too dark to see at the moment. Alice can just about make out a wooden handrail, and outdoor furniture – six chairs, and another table, plus what looks like the shape of a barbecue. And is that another pool? The room itself is fairly empty, as though it’s made for dancing, and Alice wonders if that’s exactly what Felicity has planned, whether she’s cleared the furniture to one side to make room for them all to enjoy her birthday. Alice used to love dancing, when she was in her early twenties. But Tom once told her it made her look stupid, so she sort of stopped and has avoided it since. The thought of this room awash with music and people and drinks though fills her with excitement – now that they’re here, she can so see how amazing this party is really going to be. She can almost taste the champagne on her tongue.
Ten out of ten, Flick, Alice thinks to herself. Talk about a reunion. She isn’t one to do things by halves.
Speaking of which – where is she?
‘Do you think we’re the only people staying here?’ Hannah asks, and Alice shrugs, feeling a bit confused too.
‘Well, we must be, I suppose.’ She glances at her watch, and adds the one-hour time difference; she hasn’t changed it since they left England. It feels as though it should be more, given they’ve just come off an eleven-hour flight. ‘It’s late now – I can’t imagine any more guests will be arriving tonight, can you? They must all be staying close by, or maybe flying in in the morning? Maybe Felicity booked this place for us, and another place for her fancy New York friends? Though’ – Alice grins – ‘I can’t really imagine what theirs would be like if this is the downgraded version.’
‘Shall we phone her again?’ Grace asks, and then a look of relief washes over her face as simultaneously, all three of their phones beep, the contrasting sounds loud and jarring in the quiet of the lodge. ‘Oh! She’s texted us all.’
Alice reads out the message: ‘I’m so sorry! Think I’ve got a tummy bug so having to stay in bed in Zebra Lodge but will see you tomorrow. Hope you like your rooms! Hannah, you’re in Gazelle Lodge, Alice, you’re in Cheetah Lodge and Grace, you’re in Lion. There are signs on the doors and you get a pool each too! Make yourselves at home – remember, what’s mine is yours… x’
‘So we’re not staying in the main lodge?’ Hannah says, and Alice shrugs again.
‘Well, she must be saving it for the party. Everyone’s probably descending tomorrow. It’s nice to have our own private lodges – I’m not complaining.’
‘I’m not complaining either,’ she retorts, but Alice knows Hannah and she was, just a little bit.
‘Poor Flick,’ Grace says. ‘Do you think we ought to just pop and see her?’
‘No,’ Alice says quickly, ‘not tonight. I don’t fancy catching some horrible Botswana bug the night before the party, do you? We can all go have showers then reconvene for something to eat tonight, then we’ll see her in the morning.’
They both look relieved that at least one of the group is being decisive. It is a little bit weird, being in this huge lodge on their own, probably because it all looks so untouched. It doesn’t seem as though Felicity has been here for a few days already, but perhaps the cleaner came this afternoon. All her stuff must be in Zebra Lodge.
‘Right,’ Alice says, ‘I’ve got to go shower, I feel disgusting after the plane journey. Shall we all go find our rooms? We can explore the rest of this place afterwards.’
The three of them head back outside, into the hot air, and Alice is relieved when Cheetah Lodge is the one closest to them, just down the walkway to the right. On the wooden door is a plaque with an intricate symbol of a cheetah carved onto it, mouth open, incisors poised, and the words Cheetah Lodge in dark curly script.
‘Very nice, very on brand,’ she says to the girls. ‘You must be that way, look.’ She points towards the other two lodges – Zebra Lodge is the one on the other side of the main house, according to the signs attached to the walkway. The gas lamps flicker in the darkness, welcoming them all, inviting them inside.
‘Meet back in the main lodge in forty-five minutes?’ Hannah suggests, and Alice nods, smiles at them, eager for them to disappear for a little while and give her a chance to freshen up.
Inside Cheetah Lodge, it’s just as beautiful and luxurious as the main one. Alice gives a little wriggle of delight when she sees the majestic four-poster bed, complete with pure white sheets and full, fluffy pillows that make her want to dive right into them and never come out.
The floorboards are wooden again, and there’s a thick striped rug in the centre; Alice steps on it and feels her toes dig into the fur. God, if only she could afford to hire something like this. She thinks of their flat back in Hackney, the peeling walls and the tiny bedroom that have cost them all of their savings, literally every single penny she has ever, ever earned. She thinks of herself and Tom arguing, their voices loud, naive in the small space, the words they can never take back. And then she thinks of the type of people that can come and stay here, and she feels a twinge of resentment in her gut which she quickly quashes. It’s pointless to compare lives. At least she is here now, enjoying it.
There’s a window on the far side of the room, framed by thick cream curtains patterned with tiny, stitched yellow cheetah heads. Alice smiles, touches one with the tip of her index finger. It’s certainly a theme.
Leading off from the bedroom is the en-suite bathroom, and this is where Alice really starts to enjoy herself. The bath is gleaming white and curved, with clawed feet (of course) and a huge silver showerhead hanging above it. Lined up on a ledge next to the bath is a row of products – shower gel, shampoo, conditioner, body scrub, a loofah – expensive stuff. She picks up a bottle and sniffs it; it smells gorgeous, of honey and some sort of spice.
On the towel rail are four fluffy white towels, each embossed with gold-threaded initials: CL. She is momentarily confused and then she realises: Cheetah Lodge. There’s a sink, ceramic white set into a wooden dresser, and on the side is a clean water glass, a bottle of lemon-scented hand cream and a square bar of soap, nestling neatly in a pretty, oval-shaped dish. A small wicker basket houses a white hand-towel, folded neatly into a peak, and above the sink is an ornate gold mirror, shined to within an inch of its life. Alice stares back at her reflection, and she can see the glee in her eyes – almost like she’s sharing a secret with herself. I can’t believe we’re here!
She can’t decide whether to have a bath or a shower, but given it’s not long before she needs to meet the others she decides on the latter, so that she can have a bit of time to relax afterwards. Hopefully she can have a nice long bath in the morning, or on Sunday after the party, when she’s hungover – that’s always soothing. Alice used to have baths all the time at uni, but she doesn’t really now – Tom always moans about her using all the hot water. But she doesn’t have to worry about that here, because he can’t see her and this is someone else’s house. Or should she say someone else’s safari lodge.
Stripping naked, Alice turns on the shower and steps into the bathtub, directing the spray towards her body. The water is hot and hard on her shoulders and feels amazing after the horribly long journey and the heat of the day. As she washes her hair, massaging the expensive shampoo into her scalp, digging her nails in, she thinks about the girls, about how strange and yet natural it feels to be together af
ter all this time. As though no time has passed at all, yet it’s also as though it’s been decades. Honey-scented foam froths under her fingers, and she rubs the top of her left arm out of habit, kneads her fingers into the skin, remembering. The bruises have long since healed, but the memory remains intact.
There is so much about her life that the others don’t know.
Stepping out of the shower, Alice dries herself off, loving the feel of the soft white material against her skin. Her arms and legs feel sinewy today, thinner than usual – stress, perhaps, from the school and from Tom. She’s glad; she needed to lose weight. She pads back out to the bedroom, goes over to where she’s left her suitcase on the bed. When she looks more closely, Alice sees that there’s a little note on the duvet, that she must have missed, surrounded by rose petals. It looks like something from a hotel, and she does a little victory whoop, just because she’s feeling so excited. Tucking her towel around her, she picks up the note, and reads it quickly:
Dear Alice, welcome to Botswana! I hope you enjoy your stay in Cheetah Lodge. I put you in here because we both know it’s a good namesake for you, don’t we? Have fun! Flick. X
Alice stares at it, her eyes flickering back over the words, reading them twice, three times. A good namesake for her? A cheetah – does she mean a cheater? She studies the note more closely, though her hands, still damp from the shower, are beginning to shake ever so slightly. What does she mean? It’s definitely Felicity’s handwriting, from what she remembers. Have the other two got a note like this as well?
A sudden, hot burst of shame hits her and before Alice can stop herself, she crumples up the note in her hand and squeezes her fist tightly around it, blurring the ink into nothing. If Felicity wants to play games with her, she isn’t interested. Alice has been through enough of that to last her a lifetime, and she wouldn’t have come here if she knew this was what was in store.
The Wild Girls Page 7
