by PJ Skinner
‘And you, Mr Simmonds.’
‘Alex, please call me Alex. Everyone else does.’ He beamed at her. ‘Let’s get down to business. You may wonder why I called you when there are plenty of men available for contracts.’
Sam hesitated. She didn’t want to launch into a diatribe about the unfairness of life, no matter how tempting it was, even if he seemed to be inviting it. Alex Simmonds smiled.
‘Oh, don’t worry, I don’t expect you to comment on the status of women in the mining industry. I understand how hard it is out there. I was talking to my wife about it and she pointed out that any woman succeeding in the exploration arena must be exceptional. That made me think. I asked the Earth Science agency if they had a competent female geologist on their books. They recommended you and gave me your number.’
‘Gosh, thanks.’ Sam was taken aback at this logic.
‘Don’t thank me, thank my wife. This contract needs some serious soft skills. Most men who work in the field tend to be a little rough around the edges.’
Sam grinned.
‘I take it you agree. Anyway, I have a private exploration company which I plan to take public.’
Shades of Mike Morton, the entrepreneur who had persuaded Sam to go to Sierramar for shares ‘which will be worth a fortune’. She had stuffed those share certificates in a drawer somewhere, along with all the other things she didn't throw out because they might be worth something later. She tried not to be disappointed, but he read her expression.
‘I see you are sceptical. I have a broker and some investors lined up.’
‘It’s not that. I can’t afford to work without a salary.’
‘What do you mean? What makes you think you won’t get paid?’
‘My last job …’
‘Oh, no, I’m not a charlatan. I’ve done this before. Have you heard of Redstone Resources?’
‘Yes, Rio Tinto bought them last year. Were you? Oh!’
Now she remembered. She blushed. Alex Simmonds was the ex-CEO of Redstone, which he had sold for eighty million dollars the year before. She’d read about it in the newspaper.
‘I’m so sorry. I didn't realise you were that Alex Simmonds. Redstone’s a great company. No wonder Rio wanted it.’
Now it was Alex’s turn to look embarrassed.
‘Thank you. I’m glad you think so. Thing is, I’d like to set up a new business and Simbako is the place to go.’
‘Simbako? Is it safe now? I didn’t realise the civil war was over.’
‘Oh, yes. The ceasefire came into effect two years ago. The UN collected the weapons and everyone returned to work. Anyway, most of the trouble came over the border from their neighbours.’
‘That’s great news. The geology’s so prospective. What will you be exploring for?’
‘Diamonds, perhaps gold too, in alluvial deposits. And that’s where you come in. Despite having a democratic government these days, the country’s still run by the Paramount Chiefs. They don’t recognise the validity of the mining licences given out by the government. We must pursue delicate negotiations to persuade them to allow mining on their turf.’
‘I haven’t worked with diamonds before, although I have experience of alluvial deposits in Sierramar.’
‘If you go there for me, I’d like you to establish friendly relationships first. You can do geology too, but not enough to scare the horses. We’ll take it a step at a time.’
‘Where will I live?’
‘In Fona, central Simbako, but you’ll spend two days in the capital, Njahili, before you go so you can meet the other members of our team, Fergus and Ned.’
‘What do they do?’
‘Fergus is the general manager, which covers a multitude of sins, and Ned is his assistant or factotum, if you like.’
‘Do we have a budget?’
‘About fifty thousand dollars for some preliminary pits and mapping. Oh, and your salary. How does a rolling contract of five thousand dollars a month sound?’
Sam’s brain was whirring. Why did Alex Simmonds think she was the one to lead the project? Could she pull this off? Would the average Simbako male would be keen on taking orders from a woman? Would her rudimentary knowledge of diamond geology be enough to see her through? But, as to scaring the horses, she was more worried about looking them in the mouth.
‘When do I start?’
***
‘Hi Mummy. I’ve got news.’ Sam’s voice was an octave higher than usual in her excitement.
‘What’s up, sweetheart?’ said Matilda, wrestling with the telephone wire which was stuck under a chair leg.
‘I’ve got a contract in Simbako.’
‘Africa! Gosh, that’s exciting. Maybe you’ll meet Tarzan.’
‘I've always wanted to visit and now they’re paying me to go there. I can’t believe it.’
‘Who will you be working for?’
‘Alex Simmonds. He used to own Redstone Resources.’
‘Will he be paying you, or is it shares again?’
‘Cash, thank goodness.’
‘Did you say Simbako? Wasn’t there a civil war there?’
‘The U.N. brokered a ceasefire and collected all the weapons two years ago, so it’s safe enough.’
‘Hmm, I suppose so. Have you told Daddy?’
‘No, not yet. I’m going next week though so it’s all a rush. Can I visit for a coffee on my way to the airport?’
‘Which day is that?’
‘Wednesday. My flight leaves in the evening from Heathrow.’
‘That’ll be lovely. I’ll make a nice coffee cake to see you off.’
‘Will Daddy be there?’
‘It depends on his schedule. Have you told his lordship yet? I doubt another trip abroad will go down well with Simon. Haven’t you just made up?’
‘Can’t be helped. I'll tell him tonight. He’s invited me over to his place.’
‘Oh? And what’s that all about? Anything I should be told?’
‘Don’t buy a hat yet, Mummy. Just dinner and a video.’
‘Okay, darling, you know best. See you soon.’
***
‘Again? For God’s sake! Why can’t you get a normal job like everyone else?’
Fury and incomprehension made his voice quiver. Tufts of hair stuck out over his ears, giving him his trademark look of an indignant owl. Sam was unmoved by this show of resentment, having been through it all before.
‘This is my normal job. And soon I’ll have enough money to put a deposit on a flat. I’m still rather young to settle down for the rest of my life.’
‘You’re not that young.’
‘Thirty’s not old.’
‘It’s not young either. You need to have children soon or it’ll be too late.’
‘I need to marry first. Are you offering?’
Simon went a funny colour. He turned his back on her and sighed. ‘There’s something important I needed to talk to you about.’
‘Can it wait until tomorrow? I’m not in the mood right now.’
Sam’s tone was light, but she was scared. Was this it? Would he go down on one knee? Did she even want to marry him?
The phone rang, making them both jump.
‘Hallo? Hang on a minute.’ He put his hand over the receiver. ‘Sorry, it’s business, do you mind?’
Sam minded, but she shook her head and entered the sitting room, shutting the door. Real terror gripped her. The possibility of a proposal had put her in flight mode. She needed time to think before he asked her. A diversion seemed like the best tactic. She drew the curtains and undressed.
***
Simon took his hand off the mouthpiece.
‘Why are you calling? She’s here.’
‘Have you told her yet?’
‘No, I haven’t. This is a delicate matter, Hannah, not helped by you calling in the middle of it.’
‘Okay, sorry, I’ll call you tomorrow. Goo
d luck.’
‘Thanks.’
He took a deep breath and returned to the sitting room where Sam had taken off all her clothes and was posing on the sofa. He frowned.
‘I thought you weren’t in the mood,’ he said.
‘I didn’t get naked for a chat. This is all yours. Acres of pleasure.’
She gestured at her body, running her hands over her breasts. Simon could resist everything except temptation. He unbuttoned his shirt.
Chapter II
The train journey to the airport featured the usual blur of scruffy back gardens and graffitied walls. Sam sat by herself, hugging her rucksack and trying not to cry, something that took all of her energy. The last few days had been a nightmare, made worse by her inability to cope with her parents’ unarticulated sympathy. She didn’t blame them. Strong emotions were anathema to their generation. The fact that the culprit was their other daughter made it hard for everyone to deal with.
After finding the knickers in Simon’s flat, Sam had crept out without alerting him. She fumbled around and dressed in the dark hallway. Then she grabbed her handbag and exited his flat, pulling the door to without letting the lock snap shut. If any burglars came, it was his look out. She managed to flag down a taxi that had just left its client up the street and was heading back to the centre of town. Stuttering out her address, she slumped in the back seat and responded with monosyllables to the driver’s cheery attempts at banter.
They arrived at her flat where she paid him with cash and let herself in, cursing as the key got stuck in the lock. Once inside, she got into bed, disconnected the telephone on the bedside table and pulled the duvet over her head. Her heart had thundered with shock and adrenaline. She wanted to cry, but the sobs stuck in her throat.
She lay there for hours, trying to piece together the clues. It must have happened while she was away in Sierramar, but why did he come back to her if he had fallen for her sister? How long had he been seeing her? No wonder she’d behaved oddly on the phone when Sam called her from Calderon. Hannah could be selfish and cruel.
Sam had already experienced her sister’s need to win at all costs. Even though she tolerated this mania all her life, she found it hard to believe that a woman who could have any man she wanted had chosen her sister’s boyfriend.
She needed sanctuary, so she packed her bags and moved into her parents’ house.
‘Did you know?’
Her mother nodded and hung her head.
‘I saw them together. I didn’t know what to do.’
‘It’s okay, Mummy. You’re in an impossible situation.’
‘I hoped it was a one-off and wasn't sure if telling you would help or not.’
‘Cinderella, that's me. The Ugly Sister has gone off with my prince.’
‘I'm sorry, darling.’
‘That’s okay. It’s my fault for taking him back. I’ll never do that again.’
‘Maybe it’s for the best. He wasn’t everyone’s idea of Prince Charming. Shall I make you a cup of tea? There’s a lemon cake that needs eating.’
A cup of tea. The Harris solution to everything. Nuclear war, plagues, famines, all made better by a cup of tea.
‘Yes, that would be lovely.’
The initial shock had dissipated, but when she’d packed her bags for Simbako, the finality of the situation became clear. She would never get back with Simon. Worse than that, she had lost her sister to him. In doing something so unforgivable, Hannah betrayed their bond in a way that seemed irreparable.
Sam could not deal with such strong emotions. She shied away from conflict, but now she couldn't avoid the consequences. She blamed herself for taking him back more than once. How had she been so stupid? Simon would never change and the only person getting hurt was her. She’d pulled herself together and decided to focus one hundred percent on her job in Simbako. Let Hannah learn about Simon the hard way. They deserved each other.
***
A commotion in the front part of the aircraft attracted her attention as she buckled her seatbelt. The cabin staff were arguing with a man and directing him to the economy section, but he stood his ground. He had an Irish accent like lazy caramel.
‘But my secretary booked me a business class ticket,’ he said, putting his hands on his hips.
‘I’m sorry, sir, but that’s not what it says here. You’re travelling in economy.’
‘But I’m not supposed to be. Can’t you do something?’
I’m sorry, sir. Business class is full today. We can’t fit you in. You must visit our office in Njahili to investigate the cause of the mix-up.’
‘This is ridiculous.’
‘I’m afraid there’s no choice. Travel economy or travel tomorrow.’ The stewardess folded her arms in defiance.
‘You’ve got me there,’ he said, ‘Okay, where do I go?’
The stewardess showed him to the seat beside Sam, who took all her belongings off it and stuffed them into the seat pocket in front. He huffed in irritation, but that didn’t detract much from the fact he resembled Robert Redford and had the build of an ex- rugby player, muscles still defined through his clothes. She tried not to stare at the freckles on his muscular forearms, especially the one shaped like a heart. He didn’t appear to notice her and put a pair of earplugs in. Covering his eyes with a mask, he had gone to sleep before the plane had even left the ground.
As the plane sped higher after take-off, Sam dragged her attention away from the hunk sitting beside her and wondered about her decision to accept the job. She had never worked in Africa before. What could she expect? Her childhood fantasies about being like Tarzan, making friends with a chimp and hanging out with the elephants only highlighted her feelings of ignorance. How hot would it be? Would she like the food? Could she persuade the Paramount Chief to work with them? She hoped they spoke English as she had been reluctant to check with Alex Simmonds in case he thought her ignorant. She fell asleep and dreamt about lions.
Her neighbour woke her as he tried to remove her head from his shoulder. Embarrassed, she checked for drool on his jacket, but there was no damp patch. Since they were both awake, she tried to engage him in conversation, but it was like getting the last drop of ketchup out of a bottle.
‘These long flights are a pain, aren’t they?’
He grunted.
‘Are you going to Simbako on business?’
‘What? Yes. You?’
Three words. Not promising. Sam ploughed on.
‘I have a contract to work for an exploration company.’
His head jerked around.
‘Mining? You?’ He examined her with a slight sneer on his face. ‘Who are you working for?’
People’s incomprehension when faced with a female geologist was normal, but his rudeness made her unwilling to disclose anything else.
‘Oh, just consultancy work.’
‘Another lemming,’ he remarked. ‘Well, good luck. You’ll need it. If you’ll excuse me.’
He got out of his seat and walked to the back of the aircraft where he lit up a cigarette. Every woman in economy class watched him walk by. An attractive man for sure, but the packaging hid a nasty interior. She dug out her Walkman and ignored him for the rest of the flight.
***
A veteran of long haul travel to countries with chaotic airports, Sam expected delays on landing, but Njahili competed with the worst. The queue for foreign passport checks was short, but only one immigration desk was occupied by a woman officer who flirted with every male she processed. The half-light of the early morning illuminated the faces of the passengers, grey with fatigue. Some stretched their calves or listened to their Walkman to pass the time.
When she arrived at the front of the line, Sam got a cursory glance and the usual grubby fingering of the pages of her passport with its peeling visas. The official peered at Sam over the top of her glasses.
‘Your husband?’
‘Sorry?’
The immigration official glanced at the man behind Sam, who shrunk under the scrutiny and busied himself with his customs form. Having just lost her boyfriend to her sister, Sam did not wish to discuss the wonders of marriage and there was one way to stop aggressive questioning about her private life in its tracks.
‘He died,’ said Sam, as she sniffed and reached into her bag for a tissue, using it to dab at her eyes.
‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Perhaps you will find a nice man in Simbako,’ said the immigration officer, chastened.
Sam wanted to mention flying pigs, but she wasn’t stupid. The now sympathetic woman stamped her passport and waved her through. Sam managed a brave smile as she disappeared into an old aircraft hangar converted into a makeshift baggage collection hall.
Two carousels, or what remained of them, occupied one end, but their pitiful state showed that maintenance had long ceased. Hundreds of people milled around large heaps of luggage, shouting instructions to the small boys who separated bags from the pile to get themselves a tip. Sam recognised the Irish man standing beside a heap piled high with bags. The luggage carts arrived and the suitcases were flung off into a new pile at dizzying speed. No-one dared to approach whilst the bags were flying.
‘There’s mine,’ shouted someone.
The crowd of onlookers surged forward and pulled at the stack of bags. Sam realised that she didn’t stand a chance in the melee and waited until the worst of the pushing and shoving had finished. She stood back and watched the chaos. Mosquitos filled the air, each one bigger and more voracious than the last. They circled her, buzzing in her ear. She fumbled in her handbag for her insect repellent. As she removed the spray, a large mosquito landed on her arm and she swiped at it, dropping the bottle. It rolled along the ground, stopping between the gnarled feet of a tall old man in a decrepit wheelchair. The man appeared to be asleep and showed no sign of noticing. Sam approached him.
‘Excuse me.’
He straightened, looking up at her, his watery eyes searching her face. Tribal scarring on his cheeks gave them the appearance of a ploughed field and tight grey curls covered his head and neck.
