“This extensive cave system is one of the world’s most important archaeological sites. Some of the oldest human fossils have been discovered here. In 1980, four foot bones were discovered; ‘Little Foot’ is more than three and a half million years old.”
More than three and a half million years old. Maud had to admit that she was impressed; Sterkfontein certainly deserved to be called the Cradle of Mankind.
They continued into the caves, and their guide spoke interestingly and with enthusiasm about everything they saw. Maud completed the tour, but felt quite exhausted when they emerged into daylight once more. She was very glad she’d taken her stick along. When they returned to the bus, Maud could see that Alise was her cool, collected self again, while Morten looked brighter. He said he was feeling hungry, and Pieter reassured him with the news that they would be having lunch as soon as they reached the Heia Safari Ranch, less than half an hour’s drive from Sterkfontein.
They arrived at the ranch and drove through the park, where zebra, impala, and antelope roamed free. The bus stopped by the banks of Crocodile River, where there was a conference center surrounded by lodges, as well as a restaurant.
“I did ask you to bring your bathing suits if you wanted to cool off in the water, but that will be at Hartbeesport Dam, not here. This isn’t known as Crocodile River for nothing,” Pieter said.
They sat down at a large table in the shade on the terrace. There was a wonderful smell coming from the charcoal barbecue, and waiters immediately appeared with big plates piled high with impala meat, Boerewors and snoek. The Boerewors sausage didn’t cause any problems, but it took Pieter some time to convince Susanne Håkansson that snoek was a fish, not a snake.
As they set off back to the bus, Morten caught up with Maud.
“That elixir was fantastic. Where can I get a hold of some more?” he asked.
“I bought it in a store that specializes in natural remedies, but you’re welcome to take this for the time being,” Maud replied, digging out the little plastic bottle.
Morten began to protest, but she waved him away; she had almost a liter left in her hotel room. That would last her quite a while.
Feeling full and contented, they set off for Hartbeespoort Dam.
“The dam is part of a bigger nature reserve,” Pieter explained. “The residents of Johannesburg come here to relax and indulge in a range of water sports. Fishing is also popular, and you can rent the necessary equipment.”
The group spent a pleasant afternoon by the dam. After a short stroll, Maud settled down at a table in a grove of savanna trees with their characteristic wide crowns. She saw the Jensens walking along hand in hand. He nodded toward the restaurant; Alise let go of his hand and said something to him. Maud couldn’t hear what it was; they were too far away. Then Alise pointed to Maud, Morten went into the restaurant and Alise came over to Maud’s table and asked if she could join her. Maud nodded and waved a hand at the empty chairs opposite.
Alise was wearing a floaty yellow dress with a floral pattern and sandals in the same shade of yellow. She smiled conspiratorially. “Morten needed the bathroom, then he’s going to order some water and a bottle of white wine for the three of us,” she said.
“Oh . . . thank you.” Maud was caught off guard; she wasn’t used to anyone treating her.
“Morten has cancer. Prostate cancer,” Alise blurted out.
Maud didn’t really know what to say or how she was expected to react. She mumbled almost inaudibly: “Oh dear. That’s very sad.”
Alise took a deep breath, and suddenly the words came pouring out. “Yes. 2012 has been a terrible year. I hope 2013 will be better! He’s undergone surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation, and he’s on steroids—hence the bloating. But he was determined to come on this trip, whatever happened.” Tears shimmered in her eyes.
Maud was at a loss. The only question she could think of was: “Have you been married long?”
“Twenty-five years last summer.”
Their silver wedding. Heavens. Alise must have been a child bride.
As if she could read Maud’s mind, Alise launched into their backstory, “Morten used to work for my father. They became good friends, and that was how we met. I was studying law, and Morten was director of finance for the company. He was divorced, no children. We fell madly in love and married as soon as I’d taken my final exams. Our sons are grown up now; they’re both studying economics at the University of Copenhagen. We hope they’ll take over the company in due course.” Alise fell silent and wiped away the tears with the back of her hand.
“Morten said at the introductory meeting that he’s a property director . . .” Maud left the unfinished sentence hanging in the air.
Alise nodded. “He is, but I own the company. I have no brothers or sisters, so I inherited everything from my father.”
Impressive. Alise was no trophy wife, but a highly educated businesswoman.
“So what does the company do?” Maud asked.
“We own and rent out property; we’re also involved in construction. We’re actually one of Denmark’s largest property management firms.”
Maud was totally unprepared when Alise reached out and squeezed her hand. She almost snatched it away, but managed to control herself.
“Thank you so much for letting me talk to you, Maud. It’s so nice to meet someone who understands and knows how to listen.”
Maud could see Morten approaching over Alise’s shoulder, followed by a waiter carrying a tray with a bottle of iced water, a bottle of white wine in a cooler, three tumblers, and three wine glasses.
Maud spent a very enjoyable hour in the shade of the tree with Alise and Morten Jensen.
On the way back to Johannesburg they stopped at the Aloe Ridge Game Reserve, at the request of the Håkanssons; apparently there were some rare birds that they were hoping to see. While the couple went in search of these birds, Luhandre took the rest of the group on a short drive; they at least managed to see some buffalo and giraffes.
Christmas Day was quiet as expected. The hotel put on a concert by a church choir in the morning; they sang familiar Christmas songs and carols.
Lunch was served at two. It was a lavish buffet, and each guest also received a small gift, which was left on the table in their pre-booked places. The gifts turned out to be skillfully carved miniature animals. Maud gently stroked the smooth surface of her little elephant. Elephants brought luck. She was delighted with it.
The following morning Luhandre picked up the little group of travelers outside the hotel at a quarter to nine to drive them to the airport. Everyone was there, but some looked pretty tired. Apparently they had sat up on the roof terrace until well into the night.
When they stepped off the plane, they were no longer in South Africa, but Zimbabwe. The temperature was already in the eighties, and there wasn’t a breath of wind. A rented minibus was waiting for them. Luhandre helped with the luggage, then loaded several cool boxes from a truck with cool delivery painted on the sides. Once everyone was settled, he set off.
After a little while Pieter picked up the microphone. “So, my friends, we are on our way to Victoria Falls. The explorer and missionary David Livingstone named them after Queen Victoria, but the falls already had a name, Mosi-oa-Tunya, which means ‘The Smoke That Thunders.’ And the water really does sound like thunder as it comes crashing down from a height of one hundred and eight meters. That’s why I’m giving you this information now; it can be difficult to hear when you’re actually there.”
He glanced at Maud, who was sitting right at the front of the bus. Needless to say, she pretended she hadn’t heard.
“The falls are located on the border between Zambia and Zimbabwe, on the Zambezi River. The spray from the water spreads out across the banks below, and has created a fantastic little rainforest.”
“There are some unique bird species
in the area,” Lars Håkansson chipped in. It was the first time Maud had heard him utter a sentence of any length. The man is obsessed with birds, she thought.
Pieter didn’t seem to mind being interrupted. He nodded and smiled, then continued. “That’s correct. We’ll be staying at the falls for a few hours, and we’ll also be having lunch there, then Luhandre will drive us downstream. Our ship, Queen of Zambezi, will be waiting for us at the quayside. There will be some free time during the day while the ship is still docked, and afternoon tea will be served on board at five o’clock. It will be a real treat; don’t miss it! I’ll give you more information after tea.”
The Victoria Falls were every bit as deafening and powerful as Pieter had said. The group followed a walkway along the gorge, together with a number of other tourists. From this vantage point they were able to see almost the entire span of the falls. The rainforest was lush, and the Håkanssons disappeared among the vegetation, armed with their bird books, binoculars, and a camera with a huge lens. One or two others wandered off alone, enjoying the fantastic scenery.
When they reconvened for lunch, they had a pleasant surprise. Luhandre had laid out disposable plates and cutlery on picnic benches provided by the park in the shade of an imposing acacia tree. From the cool boxes he produced wine, beer, water, slices of quiche, different kinds of wraps, and both fresh and dried fruit. The white wine was chilled and delicious, although it was a shame they had to drink out of plastic cups.
Feeling energized, they got back on the bus, which took the route following the course of the Zambezi River through Victoria Falls National Park. They spotted elephants and giraffes from a distance, and Luhandre narrowly avoided hitting a young baboon as it scampered across the road. Elisabeth insisted that she’d seen a male lion disappearing behind some tall rocks, but no one else saw him. On the other hand she’d drunk an awful lot of wine during the braai and had looked seriously hung over this morning, in Maud’s opinion.
The Queen of Zambezi certainly merited the description of a luxury ship. The top deck had lounge chairs encircling a small pool. On the first and second decks there were twelve beautiful en suite cabins in total, each with a generous balcony and comfortable lounge chair. Maud went out onto her balcony, which was in the shade. With a sigh of pleasure, she sank down onto the comfortable cushions. She was beginning to feel overwhelmed. There were too many people with whom she was expected to constantly engage. She wasn’t used to having to socialize for a protracted period and knew she needed quiet and solitude. She closed her eyes and listened to the birdsong, mingling with the chatter of the monkeys. The sound of Africa. She fell asleep with a smile on her lips.
She woke up at four, an hour before their afternoon tea, which according to Pieter mustn’t be missed. Just as she thought of their guide, she noticed him walking down the road and watched as he suddenly turned off and disappeared among the rocks and bushes. He was familiar with the country, so she assumed he didn’t need a companion. Maybe he was armed as well. Anyway, he’d be fine. She decided she had time to stretch her legs, and just to be on the safe side, she took her stick.
The first person she saw as she made her way down the gangplank was Fredrik Ziander, marching along purposefully. He soon vanished around a corner. Behind him was Lars Håkansson, proceeding at a more measured pace. He seemed to be fiddling with the lens of his camera. Maud thought it was unusual to see him without his wife, but maybe she was having a rest before tea. The two men didn’t look as if they were together, even though they were heading in the same direction. Maud chose to go the other way.
The risk of encountering a crocodile or hippo was minimal, as their territory was above the falls, but there were other creatures to watch out for. After only a few minutes, Maud saw a big snake slithering slowly across the track. She recognized it as a puff adder; she’d seen one before and knew it was important to be wary. That particular reptile is easily provoked, and strikes immediately when disturbed. The worst thing about puff adders is that if you see one, there are often more nearby. And then Elisabeth had mentioned a lion . . . Maud wasn’t usually afraid of wild animals, but she had to confess to a certain trepidation when it came to snakes. As for lions . . . It was usually the female who did the hunting, but a hungry male might fancy sinking his claws into an old lady. Maybe this stroll wasn’t such a good idea. She decided to turn back and settle down with a book on her balcony.
The passengers gathered in the bar just before five. The South Africa Grand Tour group was joined by Luhandre and Pieter, but Maud immediately noticed that Fredrik Ziander and Lars Håkansson were missing. A group of French travelers was sitting at another table.
Pieter hadn’t exaggerated; afternoon tea really was something special. Plates of the most tempting savory tidbits and pastries had been arranged on the bar, and tea was served in thin, wide porcelain cups. There were various teas to choose from: red rooibos, Chinese green, black Kenyan Milima, and ordinary Earl Grey. Maud drank tea occasionally, but preferred coffee. However, the Kenyan blend and all the delicious accompaniments won her over. She allowed herself to enjoy the experience to the full, which was why almost half an hour had passed before she realized that Fredrik and Lars still hadn’t appeared. She leaned across the table to pour herself another cup of tea, and took the opportunity to catch Susanne’s eye.
“I saw your husband going out with his camera shortly after four. Isn’t he back yet?” she asked, trying not to sound too interested.
Susanne rolled her eyes and smiled. “He thought he saw a Goliath heron by the river earlier, a couple of miles upstream. I assume it was actually farther away, or he was mistaken. Or it’s flown away, of course. Maybe he’s spotted something even more interesting. Who knows?”
She shrugged and got up to refill her plate. On the way back to her seat, she suddenly stopped and stared at the doorway. Maud followed her gaze and saw a filthy Lars standing there, with a nasty gash on his forehead. His hands were also covered in blood, and he was clutching the oversized lens.
“I . . . I fell. The lens broke,” he mumbled almost inaudibly.
Susanne put her plate down on the nearest table and rushed over to her husband.
Pieter jumped to his feet. “We’ll go and see the first mate,” he said. “He’s the ship’s medical officer.”
All three left the bar.
When they returned, Fredrik was with them. He had a bandage on one hand, while Lars had a dressing on his forehead and both hands bandaged.
“What have you two been up to? Did you have a fight?” Elisabeth asked with a husky laugh.
Susanne answered on their behalf. “When we got to the medical room, Fredrik was already there. He’d been bitten by a . . . something-or-other. And poor Lars slipped down the river bank and almost ended up in the water!”
“I did get a fantastic picture of the Goliath heron though,” her husband interjected.
“What bit you?” Elisabeth asked Fredrik.
He shook his head. “Nothing. A little green meerkat jumped on me when I was just about to eat a slice of dried mango that I’d saved from lunch. It scratched me and grabbed the mango. The first mate put some iodine on the wound and fashioned an impressive dressing!”
Smiling, he held up his bandaged right hand.
Maud noticed that both men had changed their clothes. In spite of their bloody adventures, they looked cheerful and refreshed. They tucked into afternoon tea with relish. These two got lucky, she thought. But maybe they should have had the foresight to carry a stick.
The following morning, Maud woke to hear plenty of activity on board the ship. Given the engine noise she concluded that they were making their way downstream.
When she entered the bar, which also served as the breakfast room, she realized she was one of the last to appear. Some of the French group were still eating, but there was no sign of anyone else; presumably the others were up on the sun deck or on thei
r own balconies, looking out for animals along the Zambezi.
That was really all you could do. Some people went for a swim in the pool and sunbathed on the comfortable loungers, while others got to know one another better, sipping their drinks beneath an awning that covered part of the deck. Maud preferred her balcony. She saw zebras, giraffes, various antelopes, and lots of monkeys. When she was thirsty, she helped herself to whatever she wanted from the refrigerator in her room. It was very pleasant—although to be perfectly honest, it was also a little boring.
Early on the morning of the second day, the ship swung around and headed upstream. When they arrived back at their starting point at three o’clock in the afternoon, several uniformed police officers were waiting for them on the quayside.
As soon as the ship docked, the officer in charge came aboard.
“I am Detective Inspector Sdumo Mapaila. No one is allowed to disembark until my men and I have spoken to everyone,” he said brusquely.
“But we have a flight to catch,” Pieter objected.
“Take the next one,” the inspector snapped.
Over the course of the next three hours, all the male passengers were interviewed at length. The women were merely asked if they’d seen or heard anything unusual, but no one had anything to contribute. Except perhaps Maud, who chose to keep her observations to herself. She had already attracted enough attention from police in recent months. After a while the passengers worked out that a very young girl had been attacked, and was badly injured. Nasty, Maud thought.
Susanne Håkansson had been given the lowdown by her poor husband. The police had given him a hard time because of his injuries, but he was able to show them the place where he’d fallen, and they found traces of blood on the rock he’d hit his head on. Apparently the location was a considerable distance from the scene of the crime.
An Elderly Lady Must Not Be Crossed Page 10
