African Assignment

by Carol Gregor

'Sponge him down, keep him as comfortable as possible. That's the main thing. get the hotel to send someone up to change his bed.'

  'I'll do it myself,' she said quickly. She did not want strangers to see Cal in this distress. And when the doctor had gone she buzzed the desk clerk and demanded fresh sheets.

  They arrived surprisingly promptly considering it was the middle of the night, along with a bowl she had also asked for. And when the wide-eyed maid had disappeared she set to work, systematically sponging him down. Either that, or the pills, seemed to calm him, because he lay still under her ministrations, even when she had to roll him this way, then that, to change his soaking sheets for fresh ones.

  Finally she sponged his face with care, pushing his wet hair back from his skin and feeling the flannel rasp against the unshaven stubble of his beard. There were lines of tension on his forehead, and his jaw was gritted, but under her gentle ministrations his expression unclenched from whatever nightmare held him, and he seemed to sleep.

  Exhausted, she lay beside him on the empty half of the double bed. His eyes were closed, the dark lashes fanned on cheeks that were still unnaturally pale, but his temperature seemed to have dropped a little. She grimaced with dry humour. She had dreamt of lying in bed with Cal, of exploring his naked body, and both things had come to pass. But hardly in a way either of them could have predicted.

  Eventually his breathing became deeper and more natural. She swung her legs down and knelt before his open bag, planning to pack back the things she had thrown out in her earlier wild panic. At the bottom was a battered and dog-eared Filofax. She lifted it out, curious about all the clues it must hold to his life, and weighed it in her hand. She glanced over at the prone figure on the bed, sleeping quietly now, and back at the scuffed leather. Then, with masterly forbearance, she put it back in the bag. Next to it was a book. She lifted it out, wondering what Cal would choose for light reading. It was an unsurprising choice, a novel about India that had recently received rave reviews in all the book columns.

  She flicked the pages and a sheaf of blue air-mail pages fell out. She marked the place from which they had fallen with her finger, and picked them up. Then curiosity got the better of her. Quiet as a burglar, she laid the book face down and smoothed the letter. Jealousy went through her like a knife as she read how it began.

  My dearest Cal, How can we ever thank you enough for your continuing generosity to us all? We have nothing to give you except our love and our prayers, and the knowledge that without you the Kaloon Orphanage would never manage to stay in existence.

  You will be pleased to hear that the hospital unit is finally finished and—blessings of blessings—Sister Frances has managed to find a qualified nurse who will come and give her services free for two days a week. She is also going to give the older children a health education lesson once a week. I'm sure if we had had that last year the cholera outbreak would not have been quite so devastating.

  The other good news is that Jalan came back to us last week, after two months of living on the streets. I had feared he would be drawn into drug peddling, or worse—you know what life is like out there—but it seems not --

  The letter ran on, full of warmth and life, and she read it absorbed, until it ended.

  Please, my very dearest boy, look after yourself, and give yourself some mercy. I know that it is like whistling in the wind to ask you not to take so many risks, but I beg you to heed the wishes of an elderly woman who loves you dearly, and to try. Come and see us soon; it has been too long. Our love and prayers always.

  Then there was an indistinguishable squiggle at the end.

  Carefully Frankie folded it back into the book, and put the book and all the other things back into the bag.

  Quietly she drew up a chair, and prepared to keep vigil by Cal's sleeping body. Then she looked deep into his face, withdrawn into a drugged sleep, and thought I don't know you at all.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Cal roused groggily once or twice the next day, took some water, and went back to sleep. The doctor telephoned and checked on his progress. Otherwise the day passed in silence, and it was not until the evening that his eyes snapped open and he was his old self again. He took in the sunset beyond the window at a glance.

  'What happened to today?'

  'The same thing as happened to last night—you were too feverish to notice.'

  'What are you doing here?'

  'Nursing you.'

  'I don't need nursing!'

  'No? You mean I should have left you alone and unconscious in a hotel room?'

  'It's happened before.'

  'I'm sure it has. Everything's happened to you before!'

  His tone jarred on her already anxious nerves, making her snappish, but when she saw how he sank his head back to the pillows, obviously weary, she felt ashamed. 'You've had a malaria attack,' she said, more gently. 'You've been completely out of it for about sixteen hours.'

  'Did you find the pills?'

  'With a little help from the doctor.'

  'A doctor? Oh, God! All I need is the pills.'

  'Don't worry. He was only on the end of a telephone, he didn't set foot in here. Anyway, how was I to know it was malaria? For all I knew you could have been dying of green monkey fever. You looked ghastly, and you were shouting and screaming fit to bring the roof down.'

  His eyes slid to hers. 'You really are your father's daughter, aren't you? Mike used to exaggerate, too.'

  Her eyes narrowed. 'Mike? What made you think of him?'

  He shrugged.

  'Anyway, I'm not exaggerating. It woke me up, in the next room!' She stood up and went over to the bed. 'How do you feel, anyhow?'

  'OK.'

  'OK,' she echoed, cynically. Their glances snagged.

  'Well, all right, I feel bloody wiped-out. I suppose you can see that. That's the way it takes you. But I'll be fine after I've rested up.'

  'The doctor phoned back this morning. He said you ought to stay put for at least a couple of days.'

  He uttered a short, sharp expletive. 'I don't need that sort of molly-coddling.'

  'I just hope it was all worth it.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'The poachers; did you catch them in the act?'

  'Oh!' He grinned at her, suddenly remembering, and his face warmed with a look that made her heart turn over so badly she had to look away. 'And how! I got some terrific stuff, and they didn't even know I was there.'

  'Good.'

  'I'm going to shave.' He eased himself up. 'If you're a lady, you'll avert your gaze.'

  'You forget I've given you several blanket-baths in the night.'

  'Ah, so you've plumbed the mysteries of my body, have you, Frankie?' He forced a grin, but his eyes on hers were watchful and his voice wary. 'How about the secrets of my mind?'

  'I don't know what you're talking about.'

  'All that shouting and screaming you say I did—did it add up to anything coherent?'

  She held his eyes. All kinds of questions jostled to be voiced, but she saw something in his look, a guardedness, that made her lie smoothly, 'No, not really. It was all very muffled.'

  He got out of bed and she looked away.

  'If we aren't going to stay here, what are we going to do?'

  'Go to the coast.'

  The bathroom door closed behind him. When he came out again, a towel round his hips, he got back into bed without a word. He was white, and she could see that the effort of shaving had exhausted him.

  'Great!' she said. 'I've been looking forward to seeing the sea. How long will it take us from here?'

  'Me. Take me. This is a vacation I plan to take alone.'

  'But you can't! You can't drive!'

  'I just did.' He flexed his shoulder, then grimaced. 'I'll get by.'

  'But --!'

  'But what?'

  She struggled to make her voice light. 'I've been up all night giving bed-baths and changing sheets; I think I deserve a trip to the beach!'


  'No one asked you to turn nurse.'

  'Oh!' She scowled in exasperation. 'Some men might say thank you!'

  'I'm not "some men".'

  'So you're sacking me? Just like that?'

  'You can drive me to Nairobi, and I'll sort out your ticket home. You'll get your full wages.'

  'I don't care about the money!' She turned away so that he would not see the tears of frustrated disappointment that sprang to her eyes.

  'Well, I'm afraid that's all that's on offer.' Cal contemplated the gathering dark outside the window. 'Do you know what it's like down there? All powder-white sands and waving palms? It's the most sensuous place on earth. If we go there together --' He shrugged.

  Suddenly she turned, and her voice tore across him. 'So what? So what if we go there together? So what if we have an affair? If I don't care, why should you?' she shouted. 'You know what I think? I think all this nobility of yours, this restraint, is nothing at all to do with my age, or my innocence. It's because of who I am! If it was any other twenty-year-old you wouldn't think twice. But I'm Mike O'Shea's daughter! And that, for some reason, puts me beyond the pale! Oh --' Abruptly she began to choke on her words, tiredness and frustration raging within her.

  Cal closed his eyes, and his voice when it came was like cracking ice. 'The only thing I think is that I'd like some sleep. Alone. In private. So will you please just get the hell out of here and don't come back until you're invited? And that's an order!'

  Without a word, she jumped up and ran to the door, tears fogging her eyes so blindly that she had to fumble for the handle before she could slam her way out. Then she threw herself across her own bed and sobbed bitterly until she had no more tears to shed and an exhausted sleep finally overcame her.

  It was not until midday the next day that he rapped sternly on her door. 'Come on, we're leaving.'

  'I'll be glad to!'

  She marched ahead of him, down the stairs, in silence, and stood seething while he paid the bill.

  'I trust you've eaten,' he observed coolly, 'because it's a long haul back to town.'

  She flashed him a glance. He looked pale and haggard.

  'What is it to you if I haven't?'

  'I hope to God we're not going to have this bad temper all the way to Nairobi. The way I feel, I could well do without it.'

  'Then you should have stayed and got some rest, just like the doctor ordered! But you wouldn't, would you? You're too damn stubborn!'

  'I don't need lectures from you on what I should and shouldn't be doing! I've managed perfectly well without them so far, and I intend to keep it that way!'

  They faced each other, eyes blazing with antagonism.

  'Just like you don't need nursing, I suppose! Or anyone to do your driving any more. Well, that's fine by me! Absolutely fine!'

  Blind with anger she marched out to the Land Rover, threw her basket carelessly into the back, and swung up into the passenger-seat.

  'What the hell do you think you're doing?'

  'I'm going to Nairobi to be put on a plane!'

  'But you're driving to the city!'

  'Am I? Who says? I thought I'd been dismissed.'

  'I still want you to drive me today.'

  He scowled with fury. She smiled sweetly across into his dark gaze. 'That's what you want, is it? Well, what about what I want? Maybe I'd just like to look at the scenery for a change.'

  'Why you --!'

  Frankie looked pointedly away from him and put her sunglasses on.

  'It's the best part of a day's drive --'

  'But you're quite capable of driving again now. You told me so last night.' She glanced at him again and saw dark circles under his eyes, and beads of sweat on his brow, and she almost relented. But as she wavered he rose to her challenge, his jaw set grimly.

  'All right, then --' He got in and started the engine, scouring her with a dark look. 'I know perfectly well what your game is, and it won't work. Not for a minute.'

  'I don't have a game.'

  'Yes, you do. You're trying to prove a point. Trying to force me to take you to the beach with me.'

  'No, I'm not. I don't want to go anywhere with you any more!' she burst out, and was surprised to realise it was true. She had come to the end of her tether, had had as much as she could take of his cold rejection. 'I'm just thoroughly sick and tired of everything! But if this is to be my last day in Africa, then I want take in all I can.'

  For a moment Cal scrutinised her closely, trying to assess the truth of her words, then he let in the clutch, and they set off.

  Three hours later he pulled over on the pitted, sandy track, and stopped. Wearily he climbed down and leaned against the vehicle. She got out too, and walked round to him.

  'Are we admiring the view?'

  'Stop it, Frankie, I've had enough. In every way.' His voice was so hard that it grated down her spine, and when she looked at his face she knew why. He was in a feverish sweat again, and one hand held his sore shoulder. He had driven until he was ready to collapse, and she had sat there and let him. She had intended to teach him a lesson, to show him how much he needed her, but she had never meant it to go this far.

  'Oh!' She pressed her hands to her mouth, horrified and ashamed at the sight of him. Her heart contracted for his pain and weariness.

  'You win,' he said. 'I might just about have made it from Nairobi to the coast, but I can't make it all the way.'

  'I wasn't trying to win anything!'

  'Well, whatever.'

  'You might not have made it to the coast. You might have ended up in this state halfway there—on your own.'

  'Maybe. Maybe not. Whatever the case, you'd better take over.'

  'To where? Nairobi, or the coast?'

  He shrugged wearily. 'Oh, what the hell? To the coast, I suppose.' And then he sank into the passenger-seat and appeared to sleep throughout the long, hot journey to Mombasa.

  When, at long last, they neared the coast, she touched his arm. His eyes flickered open, grey, familiar depths resting on hers, making her swallow. She pulled her fingers away from his bare flesh. 'I need directions.'

  He levered himself up and looked around. 'You came all this way without stopping?'

  'We did stop, twice, for petrol, but you were asleep.'

  He dashed a hand through his hair. 'We don't want to go right into the town centre. If you turn down here you can skirt the worst of the traffic. The house is out on the beach, to the north.'

  They turned down increasingly bumpy side-roads until they were following a dusty yellow track through what looked like fields of sugar cane. She was fascinated by the change in the scenery. They had left behind the high grassy plains long ago, were now in steamy, tropical surroundings.

  'Here.'

  She turned through a gap in the hedge, and pulled up by a modest wooden house.

  'Oh! It really is on the beach! Right on it.' Frankie jumped down and at once the heat enfolded her like a blanket, making her shorts and T-shirt feel thick and heavy. Ahead of the house was a short stretch of palm-studded garden, and immediately beyond that lay a glittering white beach, and the sea.

  Cal got down-more slowly, but he seemed happy to be here. His whole demeanour seemed to relax and grow more easy. He led the way into the house. She followed him.

  'Oh!' She looked round doubtfully.

  'What's the matter?'

  'I can see why you wanted to be alone here—it's lovely, but it's very small.'

  'It's no problem. I'll drag a pallet on to the veranda. I usually do anyway. You can have the bedroom.'

  'Even so --' She could not have put it into words, but she knew immediately that this was Cal's real home, his private bolt-hole from the world. She turned around, looking at everything. The little house was simply furnished, but in the dim tight that filtered through the closed slatted shutters she could see that it glowed with the rich colours of African fabrics and Indian rugs. She caught sight of interesting-looking carvings, of etchings and photographs on t
he walls, a calabash standing by the door. There were books and magazines and a stack of music tapes. It was everything that his stiff and formal house wasn't, she thought, and she knew she was an interloper.

  'How do you feel now?' she asked him.

  'Much better. That sleep on the way down did me the world of good.'

  'Good.' It was good news, but she felt despondent. Now he needed her no longer, and would soon start to push her away again.

  'Why don't you make a cup of tea, and I'll get the bags in?'

  'No.'

  'We've got no milk?'

  'No, I mean yes. Yes, we've got no milk. But that's not it.' She summoned all her resources. 'I'm not staying. I just wanted to make sure you got here safely. I'm going straight back to Nairobi.' Over his shoulder, through the open door, the sand and the sea and the palm trees beckoned. She cast them a brief, longing glance, then looked back to him. She stuffed her hands resolutely into her shorts pockets. In the dim light he was a dark outline, mysterious and compelling.

  'You don't have to.'

  'I want to!'

  He strode across the room and began throwing open the shutters, so that the late afternoon sun flooded in, lighting her expression.

  'For one thing, how do you plan to get back?-'

  'It depends if you want to hang on to the Land Rover or not. If you don't, I'll drive. If you do, I can get a shared taxi. I read about them in a guide-book.'

  'I do. And anyway, it's dangerous for a woman to travel by herself at night.' His face was grim. She could see he meant it.

  'Oh.'

  'Leave it for now. We can sort things out in the morning.'

  'I'm just so tired of being in your way,' she burst out, 'and of you telling me I am! I want to get out!'

  Something in her tone made him come swiftly over to her, and take her shoulders.

  'Frankie, you're not in my way, believe me. I know that after the things I've said you probably won't, but it's the truth.' His eyes searched her face and what he saw there made him frown. 'Apart from anything else, you're exhausted from all that driving. You need to rest as much as I do.'

  'But I know you want to be here alone!'

  'Did. Now I'm not so sure.' His mouth crooked a little, inviting her to smile. 'We've been together so long, I'm beginning to wonder if I can manage without our daily argument.'