“I have three sisters and two brothers.” Mgina checked the level of kerosene in the hurricane lamp. “My mother is strong but …” She shook her head.
Even in her unhappiness, she was graceful, thought Natalie. “What is it, Mgina? Is something else wrong?”
The other woman gave a small nod. “Odnate would not have been the youngest for long.”
Natalie caught her breath.
“Your mother was pregnant again?”
Another brief nod.
Natalie bit her lip. “And … and she lost the baby?”
Mgina looked at the ground. When she looked up there was a tear in her eye.
Natalie didn’t speak. What was the other woman thinking? That if Natalie and Jonas hadn’t interfered, Odnate would still have died but in a quicker, more natural, less traumatic way? And that her mother would not have lost the child she was carrying?
Or was that Natalie’s conscience talking?
She strained to find something positive to say, to provide the conversation with a lift. “You did right to stay with your mother. She has never needed you more.”
Mgina produced a shy grin through her tears. “What happened to Odnate was very bad. What happened to my mother was very bad too. The rains come all at once, out of season, as we say. But not only bad things have happened.” Her grin widened to a smile: “I am going to be married.”
Natalie felt dizzy. Had she heard right? Mgina’s smile—amid her tears—told her she had. But who became engaged in the middle of mourning, amid the tides of grief?
She reprimanded herself. Who was she to judge? For all she knew, among the Maasai, having a daughter become engaged was the best antidote to grief there was. Come to that, it might work anywhere else also.
Come to that, and despite herself, she felt her own heart lift; she found that she too was smiling.
“But that’s wonderful! When? Who is the lucky man?”
Mgina wiped her eyes and gave Natalie another shy grin. “In a few weeks. Endole Makacha. He’s the son of one of the elders. I’m lucky—I’ll be the third wife.”
Natalie’s stomach churned. Although she had told Christopher Deacon she had studied anthropology as well as archaeology at Cambridge, and although she had no real faith herself, she had been raised a Christian and she found the polygamy of Africa difficult to accept. She was about to say something sharp when again she stopped herself. Mgina didn’t think that her situation as someone’s third wife was odd, so why criticize? Natalie fought with herself for a few moments before asking, “Will you not be having a Christian wedding?”
The other woman still held a bundle of someone else’s washing, which she hugged to her bosom as she shook her head. “A traditional wedding, Miss Natalie.”
Natalie’s face puckered into an expression that was half smile and half frown. “But aren’t you a Christian, Mgina? Hasn’t your village been converted?”
Mgina grinned again and looked at her feet.
“And you are happy being a third wife?”
Mgina was still concentrating on her feet. “My mother says it is better to be married than not to be married. And she says I must not be … jealous? … you say jealous, is that a word?”
Natalie nodded.
“My mother, she says jealousy is like termites in timber, they weaken even the strongest wood.”
“Your mother is very wise, Mgina.”
“Natalie?” The voice broke in unannounced.
It was Russell.
“Just a minute.” She had guessed he would come.
Natalie stood up and crossed to her dressing table. She picked up the tortoiseshell comb Mgina had always admired. “It’s for you,” she said softly, turning to the other woman. “Congratulations.”
Another big grin from Mgina, as she took the comb. She nodded to Russell and then hurried off, carrying her bundle into the gloom.
Natalie turned back to Russell and held up the whiskey flask. “Last night Eleanor noticed whiskey on my breath. I promised to surrender this today but so much has happened, I forgot and so did she. This is our last chance.”
“You see! She’s worse than the Gestapo.” He raised his arm in a mock Nazi salute.
“Stop it, Russell, stop it! Your life is in danger. Forcing you to leave may hurt, but it’s for the best.”
“For the best?” He was dressed in jeans and a khaki shirt. He took one step back, half turned, and pointed in the direction of the gorge. “I’m part of a group that makes the most important fossil discovery in years, one of maybe the five most important paleontological discoveries of all time, she wants to throw me off the team, and you say my expulsion is for the best!” He took a deep breath. “Now Richard is dead, I’m the one who’s going to have to write the all-important paper—Daniel hates that sort of stuff—and I’m the one who should be taking these bones to our colleagues and potential critics, so they can see for themselves.”
His fists had clenched and his vivid blue eyes flashed in the light of the hurricane lamp. “I’ll never get another chance like this. There will be other bones near where we found the knee joint, even a skull maybe. You must see that, even if Dr. Himmler won’t.”
“That’s unworthy, Russell. Ignore what she says. If the Commissioner of Police in Nairobi thinks your life’s at risk, it’s no joke.”
Across the gorge, trees cracked and crunched as some elephants went through.
“What if I changed my mind—and stayed?”
“You gave your word.”
“Stuff that! The fossils are here. You are here. Maybe you don’t feel about me the way I feel about you, but give it time, give me time. I know we Australians can be direct, awkward even. But you’ve only seen me in the gorge. Come to California where everyone is more relaxed, softer, gentler.” He shook his head. “If I refuse to go tomorrow, there’ll be another scrap, but maybe after it’s over she’ll change her mind.” He clenched and unclenched his fists, took another deep breath. “I haven’t put up enough of a fight.”
“You know Eleanor much better than I do.” Natalie bent down and fiddled with the hurricane lamp, to make the flame bigger. “But I know one thing: she won’t change her mind.”
He leaned forward and nodded. “I’m going to miss you.”
She shook her head. “I told you—the whiskey parties are over.”
She handed him the cup and he took it, smiling. “I’ll never be able to drink whiskey again without thinking of you. Have you got a photo I can take with me?”
Oh dear. It wasn’t in her nature to be cold but she couldn’t let Russell leave thinking … thinking there was more between them than there was.
“One good thing comes out of this.”
“Oh yes? What might that be?”
“You’re free now to find some modern bones, that either match or don’t match the ones you found in the gorge. Your paper will be published more quickly than it otherwise would have done.”
He nodded. “I guess. But what if you, or Jonas, or Eleanor, God forbid, discovers a skull? Our findings will be overshadowed—”
“But that’s a big ‘if.’ You know that. Don’t be so … so confrontational all the time. You’ve made a great discovery—enjoy it. Well, maybe it’s hard to enjoy it, given what’s happened to Richard, but savor it, if you can.” After a moment, she added, “I’ll savor everyone in Cambridge knowing I’m a colleague of yours.” That put a distance between them, the use of such a neutral word as “colleague.”
“I had hoped we’d be more than colleagues, Natalie.”
She sipped some whiskey and handed the cup back to him. She let the silence lengthen.
She let the silence speak.
It was kinder that way.
Smoke from the campfire wafted over them.
“Have you had a chance to think what you are going to do—immediately, I mean?”
He shrugged. His fists were still clenched. His breath still came in short bursts, his chest rising and falling, rising and fa
lling. “Get to New York as soon as possible. See Richard’s parents. Then back to Berkeley, find those modern bones you’ve been banging on about—” He didn’t smile. “Then, all being well, send a paper in to Nature. The paper is already half written, as I showed you a few nights ago.” He chewed a knuckle. “Then we’ll have to see. I’m the wronged party here, Natalie—I know you don’t see it quite like I do, but that’s how it seems from where I sit. So I’ll take advice from colleagues, discuss it with Richard’s father, talk to my lawyer—”
“Lawyer!”
“Sure. Why not? I may be leaving in the morning, Natalie, but that doesn’t mean I’m rolling over.” He ran a finger down the crease on his cheek. “I have some claim here. There are a lot more discoveries to be made in Kihara and I’ll be back, someday—you can bet on it.” He leaned forward. The stubble on his chin was beginning to show itself again. “I don’t want this business to come between us, Natalie. I can’t help the way I feel about you, and I won’t hide it—it’s not in my nature. If you don’t—or can’t—reciprocate … it’s a pity but maybe you’ll change. Anyway, so far as you are concerned, I’ll be as civil as I can while I’m here, but I won’t hide from you the fact that I intend to raise the most almighty stink when I get back to the States. Everyone’s going to hear about this and Eleanor Deacon’s name will be trawled through the mud.” He gave a curt nod. “You can count on it.”
Natalie rubbed her eyes. The wood smoke from the fire was beginning to make them sore. “And will we all be dragged through the mud with her? Is that dignified, Russell?”
He handed back the whiskey. “Of course I won’t drag you through it. You’re not part of it, so you can trust me on that score. As for dignity—well, fuck dignity. I’m being kicked out tomorrow, my goddamn tail between my legs. Retired, hurt.” He brandished a clenched fist. “Well, I can hurt back.”
Natalie took the cup but shook her head. “My first dig as a fully qualified scientist, and it will become famous for all the wrong reasons—murder, bad blood, recriminations, a slanging match. The discoveries, the achievements, will be overshadowed. Whatever you say or don’t say, Russell, I’ll be tainted. Always.”
He lowered his voice. “You’re asking me to do nothing?” He shook his head. “This has gone too far.” Now he nodded. “But I’ll keep you out of this, you’ll see. My quarrel is with Eleanor, not you—”
“And I’m telling you that you’re being naive!” Natalie was nearly shouting. “You’re so upset, your pride has been burst, you haven’t thought it through. The world isn’t interested in niceties, in details like that.” She left her chair and tied up her tent, to stop insects getting in. “If you go ahead and do what you say you’re going to do, we can all wave goodbye to any academic ambitions we ever had. You’ll turn this into a soap opera!”
“So what are you saying? That I should just ignore this? Give up the chance of a follow-through, kiss off the opportunity to rewrite history?” His voice had been rising but he lowered it again. “No way, Natalie. No fucking way.”
For a long while there was just the sound of them breathing. Neither looked at the other.
By the sound of it, other quarrels were taking place nearby, among the baboons.
Natalie wished they could just enjoy the night, listening to the sounds of the bush, as she and Dom had lain together, listening to music, not feeling the urge to talk all the time, their skin touching.
As she sat down again, Russell leaned forward. “I’m sorry, Natalie, real sorry. The last thing I want is to screw up your career, or for us to part… well, like this. I haven’t hidden my feelings for you, and they haven’t changed—if anything, they’re stronger now than ever—”
“No! Russell, stop! I don’t want any special treatment from you. We’re colleagues, that’s all. Friends, yes, I suppose, though I hardly know you and you hardly know me. But that’s all.” She wiped her lips with her tongue. “I have been trying to tell you, but you haven’t been listening. Don’t go back to America, to Berkeley, thinking there is more between us than there is.” She softened her tone: she found it hard to do what she was doing but her instincts told her she must clear the air with Russell before he left.
“You’re a clever man, and I like you, but…” She faltered, and then regained her momentum. “But when I finally come out of the shadows I’m living under, when I’m ready to move on …” She looked him hard in the eye and let out a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I’m happy to be your coworker, colleague, friend. But don’t leave with any other idea.”
He stood up. “I’m sorry, too, Natalie, very sorry.” He looked down at her and nodded. “And I wonder which of us, at the end of the day, is going to be sorrier.”
He turned and walked off towards his tent.
4
SPECIAL DELIVERY
Natalie, crouched on all fours, brushed the soil-sand from a thin splinter of fossil bone poking out from between two large stones in the wall of the gorge. There were no clouds today to offer respite from the shimmering heat and she could feel her wet shirt sticking to her back. Sweat dropped down inside her collar in great globules. The French word for sweat, sueur, was much less unpleasant, she thought. Strands of her hair were plastered to her temples. This afternoon’s shower couldn’t come soon enough.
Natalie reexamined the position of the bone splinter. Sweat dripped into her eye and she removed it with her knuckle. It was time for a rest. She stood up.
Ten days had gone by since Russell’s ill-tempered departure and, during that time, the tension in the camp had risen and fallen more than once. With Russell gone, there was no longer any sense of confrontation, but then Daniel had reported that Mutevu Ndekei—now in custody in Nairobi—had refused to see him in Kiambu prison: a bad sign. Eleanor had arranged for the bones which Richard and Russell had stolen to be returned to the Maasai. These had been accepted but her request for a meeting with the elders of the tribe had been turned down, for the time being. These were not propitious days, she had been told.
Like everyone else on the dig, Natalie kept a small towel hanging half in and half out of the back pocket of her trousers. She pulled it free and wiped her neck. On the lip of the gorge right opposite where she was working, the lines of the albizia and croton trees formed a dark lacework against the sky.
She tried not to think of Russell. How he must miss just not being here.
She focused her attention again on the splinter of fossil bone that she had found. Either side of it, she now noticed, there was a large stone, about the size of a head or a melon, almost big enough to be called a boulder. Next to them were two others and she stepped back to get a better look.
A bead of sweat ran from the skin on her throat down her chest and between her breasts. That sometimes happened when she was surprised or excited.
A childhood spent making and doing jigsaws had given Natalie … not an obsession exactly, but a taste for, a fascination with patterns, with regularity and randomness. She was forever counting things—railings, paving stones, window panes, the seats and rows in theaters—to check out their regularity, their design.
Now, as she stared at the boulders in the gorge wall in front of her, she asked herself if they amounted to a pattern, if they were regular or random.
“Water?”
She turned. She hadn’t heard Christopher approaching. He was almost unrecognizable in his floppy hat and sunglasses. She took the bottle he offered. “Thanks.”
As she drank, he stood next to her, his gaze following hers as once again it swept the gorge. “You know all this used to be a huge lake, don’t you?”
“I read the basic stuff, yes, of course, but how huge?”
“About fifty square miles. Roughly the size of London.”
She handed back the bottle. “This is a better land use.”
He took off his glasses, grinning. “I agree. But it’s also why this area is so flat, and so rich in fossils. The early hominids—and all the other animals—liked to liv
e near the lake for obvious reasons, for the fresh water. Then, about two and a half million years ago, one of those mountains over there, which is a volcano, erupted. Millions of tons of ash were deposited on the lake. People, animals, and plants were buried under about four hundred feet of hot molten lava. Imagine. Makes our problems seem trivial. Then, in the intervening years, flash floods have caused fissures and gorges. Kihara is the biggest and the most productive—from a fossil point of view, I mean.”
He put the empty bottle away in his pocket. “Look, there’s a lake about three hours’ drive from here, where you see all sorts of animals and rock art. I’m learning to fly, so one day I can take you by plane. But for now, what do you say? We could drive up one weekend, overnight in a convenient cave I know, wake up at dawn and watch the show, drive back later that Sunday.”
She looked at him.
“When I say ‘overnight,’ I simply mean … what I mean is …”
He fell silent. He had already said quite a lot for him.
Natalie decided to help him out. “I did a rock art course at Cambridge. I’d love to see some in situ.”
He smiled, in relief. “Good. Where were we?”
“See that there?” She pointed at the bone in the gorge wall. “I think it’s a femur from an extinct buffalo—” She reached out and held his shoulder. “But before you bend down for a closer look, take in those stones. Does anything suggest itself to you?”
Christopher looked sharply at her, then at the stones, then back at her. He shook his head.
“Don’t they seem regular to you? Regularly spaced, I mean. Arranged.”
He inspected the stones again, then took a step back for a better look. “What are you getting at?”
Natalie slipped the towel back into the pocket of her pants. “I’m not sure yet. They just seem too regular to be natural. It set me wondering.” She bent down again. “Anyway, look at this.”
Christopher crouched alongside her as she placed the tip of her finger at the end of the fossil bone splinter. “If this little creature is what I think it is, it’s a first—not a world-shattering first, but important.”
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