by Frank Coates
And the sun. It was inescapable. Although she made every attempt to hide from its rays, her skin was as brown as a washer-woman’s. It would take months in England for her colour to become suitable for an evening frock. The saving grace was that in the White Highlands it was at least cool on most evenings. She felt quite sure no Englishman could survive at sea level.
Kenya was certainly not home, and quite unsuitable for a normal life. But there was a part of her that would miss that stark landscape with its endless skies and exotic species.
Dana didn’t think of herself as a particularly adventurous person, but when she thought of her previous life in England, it seemed quite insipid compared to the frequent clashes with the wildlife that even a colonial life as ordinary as hers involved. There was nothing in England to compare with the thrill of tracking a wounded lion in a thicket. An evening ride on one’s own property here might reveal a stalking leopard or an angry young bull elephant or buffalo. A rifle was a more useful component of her accoutrements than a parasol.
She thought of her friends and wondered if she’d miss them, or they her. The fun-loving Polly was closest to her, but Polly had a demon within her that drove her to lengths that might ultimately bring disaster. Her taste for cocaine had tempted her to experiment with heroin. She now went nowhere without her little silver syringe.
Averil was family, but without the wider context of aunts, cousins and other older members, the relationship had no depth. Averil was like a playmate at a birthday party with no adult supervision. The life her group of friends had, sharing each other’s partners, was superficially exciting, but she sometimes wondered if they were doing it for the sensual experience or as some form of sexual competition where the winner was the one best able to convince the others that he or she was having the most fun.
From the darkness she heard a soft knock, then her door opened.
‘Dana? Darling? Are you awake?’
‘Yes, Edward. I’m awake.’
‘Sorry … it’s just that … I was wondering, if I might, you know …’
‘Come to bed, Edward,’ she said, and lifted the sheet on the other side.
He slid in beside her and kissed her gently on the cheek then moved to her lips as he rubbed her midriff and slipped his hand under her nightdress.
Dana tried to put her troublesome thoughts from her mind, but she hadn’t been able to resolve all the issues — they threatened to intrude upon the moment.
Edward was becoming excited. He smothered her with kisses and his fingers played gently in her wetness. She reached down to return his caresses.
He was above her and she opened herself to him.
Suddenly, she was suspended high over the Aberdares, but able to see all the details of her bedroom. It was as if she and Edward were characters on stage or in a silent moving picture.
A moment later, Edward rolled from her, breathing heavily, and Dana regained her equilibrium.
Long after Edward had kissed her tenderly and gone to his own bedroom, Dana lay awake, trying to understand what had happened in the moments after Edward had begun to make love to her. The answer had some connection with unresolved thoughts about leaving Kenya. It dangled in the darkness just beyond reach.
She tossed and turned. Distressed and overtired, she used an old trick to bring sleep. She imagined a life in England with Edward, concentrating on feelings of acceptance and support, security and comfort. It didn’t work perfectly this time, though; and she finally allowed herself to admit that her distraction — and her indecision about the return home — came from her unresolved feelings for Sam.
Dana awoke thinking of Sam. She had been a coward not to tell him about her open marriage. Now she felt she had no way forward with him; by letting him go without some explanation, he probably felt hurt and believed she had no further interest in him.
She had allowed her remorse to fuel other emotions, like loneliness, so that when Edward had arrived at her bedroom door the previous night she was grateful, and welcomed him into her bed. Making love had always been her escape from feelings of vulnerability, and she knew that Edward understood it, and probably preyed on it. Now she was angry that she had succumbed.
She couldn’t blame Edward for her cowardice with Sam. He had stuck to their agreement about avoiding relationships outside the group and believed a new life together back in England was what she wanted. But as the day wore on, Edward became increasingly troublesome. Having broached the subject of going home, he couldn’t let it rest. Throughout the day he pestered Dana with a recitation of all the attractions of England and insisting she make her decision.
‘Edward, this is all new to me. You might have been planning it for some time, but you didn’t take me into your confidence. As I said last night, I have to think about it.’
‘What’s to think about? You’re my wife.’
She glared at him. ‘There’s the farm. And the horses.’
She hadn’t meant to mention the horses. She knew he’d have no sympathy for her desire to overcome the disaster with Dancer by putting her to stud.
‘The horses? The horses!’ he raved. ‘What is there to think about? You get rid of them, of course. I don’t doubt there are plenty of fools out there dreaming of fame and fortune on the track. That new chap Whiteman, for one.’
‘Edward, for God’s sake! Leave me be. I’ve told you, I need time.’
He stormed off, returning minutes later to announce he had work to do and that he’d be gone for a couple of hours.
Dana was pleased to see him go.
Mary was spending her day off on a visit to family in Naivasha, and the isolation played on Dana’s mind. To take her thoughts off it, she decided to organise her wardrobe, which was untidy and had been annoying her for some time. She found a few garments she thought needed to be discarded, but after half an hour she lost her enthusiasm.
She wandered down the hall and opened the door to what had been Sam’s bedroom that night. The darkness suited her mood. She lay on the bed and imagined she was again in his arms, recalling his hands and mouth as he made love to her.
He was only a few miles away. She peeped out the window. A strong wind had arisen, blowing dust and leaves through the barren garden. It was a lonely, dismal sight, but she had to do something with this restlessness — something that kept her from Sam.
She went downstairs and stood at the door. The sky was dark and heavy with cloud. It wasn’t the first time the weather had teased her with promises of a break in the doldrums, and was typical of the fickleness of nature at that time of year. The clouds would promise much but deliver nothing for weeks, until one day the heavens would open and the first torrential downpour would bring blessed relief to human and animal alike.
She put aside her misgivings and hurried across the compound — her skirt wrapping around her legs in the wind — to the stable, where she quickly saddled Dancer. She had no intention of travelling far, and Dancer had had little exercise over recent days. She thought the walk would be beneficial to both of them.
When Dana led her from the security of the stable the mare whinnied and shied at the swirling dust devils scampering across the yard.
‘Ssh … easy girl. Settle, my darling,’ she cooed to her.
Dana headed the filly to the west, not daring to take the northern road that would lead past the track to the banda. Within a few minutes, with Dancer’s steady gait taking her mind away from her temptation to be with Sam, she found herself trying to recall the details of her life in England after she had married Edward. It was now so far away in time and space that she had difficulty doing so.
She had lost track of the time and realised she’d come much further than she’d planned. Looking into the sky, she found the clouds had begun to swirl and billow, black and threatening, high into the heavens.
She was more than halfway to the Banfields’ and, recalling that Eliza was home alone, decided to call in for a visit and to take shelter in case the storm actually event
uated.
Immediately she came over the rise on the track leading to Eliza and John’s ranch she saw the old Albion parked at the front door of the farm house. She at first thought that Edward had changed his mind and decided to collect the scarifier although John was not at home. Then she saw Eliza’s house servant and cook sitting under a tree some distance from the house; as she approached they stood and walked away rather than greet her as they usually would.
Dana’s surprise turned to suspicion. She dismounted and walked through the home garden and into the parlour unannounced. The sounds from the bedroom were unmistakeable.
Dana stormed into the room to find Eliza on the bed and her husband between her legs with Eliza’s fingers grasping his thinning red hair.
‘Dana!’ she spluttered.
Edward turned and simply stared at her.
Dana spun on her heel and left the bedroom without a word.
In the garden she found a pitchfork planted into the soft soil of a flower bed. She took it to the Albion truck and, with all her might, sunk the tines into the front tyre, which gave a very satisfying pop. She then went to the remaining three tyres and within a minute the Albion was sitting on its wheel rims.
Dana eased the filly into a fast walk, afraid to strain her stamina too much, but she felt an urgency to climb to the high pastures as quickly as possible. The wind got under the brim of her hat and flung it away. She let it go.
The sky was now the colour of ink, but a thin brilliant stripe along the western horizon gave the tossing grasses an eerie glow. The wind swirled and tugged at horse and rider. A worrying thought entered her mind. Maybe Sam had become angry with her for her off-handed reception and he’d decided to take the horses onwards to Nairobi without waiting to rest them. She would be stuck alone in the hut until morning. It was a frightening prospect, and she briefly considered turning back, but the hope that he would be there spurred her on.
The sun dropped and in the darkness she had no idea if Dancer was still on the narrow track leading to the hut. There were many stumps and antbear holes across the hills, and she had to trust the horse to find her footing. In spite of her urgency to find the safety of the hut she slowed Dancer’s gait to little more than a walk, but the filly was very unsettled, tossing her head and wanting to veer away to the left. Now Dana wished she’d fitted the bit instead of using just the simple noseband.
From up ahead and to the right, Dana heard the cough of a leopard and realised the reason for Dancer’s nervousness. The predator was obviously taking advantage of the early darkness to search for prey. Dana let Dancer ease off to the left and hoped she could resume the correct course when they’d distanced themselves from the leopard.
A loud snarl came from the darkness. Dancer reared and plunged then took a great leap forwards, throwing Dana from the saddle. She hit the ground with a sickening thud and at the same moment there came the crack of thunder.
She took a moment to regain her senses, then she shouted for Dancer, but her voice was ripped from her mouth by the wind.
Dana scrambled to her feet, fighting her panic. She knew the leopard was close and would now be emboldened without the intimidating presence of the horse. She listened, but could hear nothing above the howling wind. The silence could mean that the leopard had gone on its way, or was now stalking her in earnest.
Walk, don’t run, she told herself, as she continued up the slope, but with the last of the daylight now gone, she had no way of knowing whether she was heading in the right direction.
A shadow loomed at her from the darkness.
Her heart caught in her throat and she surrendered to her panic and took flight.
Something snared her arm.
She screamed.
‘Dana! It’s me. It’s all right. It’s me.’
‘Oh, Sam!’ she sobbed, and fell into his arms.
CHAPTER 26
Dana glanced around the banda while Sam was outside putting Dancer into the boma he’d built to protect the horses. She marvelled at how easily a little warmth and light could dispel a bad experience.
He returned with a handful of sticks to stoke the fire in the middle of the hut and, as soon as he’d straightened from his task, she wrapped her arms around him again, feeling the long strong muscles of his back and his warmth. She didn’t want to ever let him go.
He stroked her hair and kissed the top of her head.
‘I’ve been watching all day,’ he whispered. ‘Hoping you’d come.’
‘I wanted to, but I’ve been afraid.’
‘Afraid?’
‘Yes. What I feel about you frightens me.’
‘Don’t be frightened.’
She stroked his back from his shoulders to his waist then ran her hands down to feel the muscles of his buttocks.
‘I’m better now,’ she said. ‘Being with you makes me feel alive. Wonderful.’ She looked up at him. ‘I want you, Sam. I’ll always want you.’
He kissed her softly and his lips lingered on hers as his tenderness slowly turned to passion.
She pulled at his buttons and when she’d stripped the shirt from him she helped him loosen the clasps on her new-fangled brassiere. When their last items of clothing fell to the floor, he lifted her and laid her on the cot. She felt the coarse hair of the zebra hide against her back and Sam’s smooth skin as he lowered himself onto her.
They lay naked in the flickering light of the fire with one of Sam’s woollen blankets pulled over them. Dana’s head rested on Sam’s shoulder and as his breathing returned to normal he enjoyed the feel of her fingers idly caressing his abdomen. The wind had abated; it was no longer howling through the forest above them, but occasionally gusting enough to part the door covering and make the flames briefly dance in the fireplace.
Dana asked how he knew she was approaching the banda.
‘I heard the leopard before the wind came up,’ he said, ‘and I went out with my rifle to watch over the horses. I saw you coming up the hill, but then I lost you in the gloom until just before the leopard pounced. I must have got lucky with my old Rigby.’
‘It was your rifle!’ she exclaimed. ‘I thought it was thunder.’
After he’d released the shot his heart almost stopped when he thought he’d missed the leopard and hit Dana. If he’d had time to think, he might not have taken the shot because of the risk, but then the leopard would have torn her apart. Thinking back on the possible consequences, the cold hand of dread touched him, and he felt such a strong sense of loss at the thought of going through life without her that a hot wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him.
He forced the notion from his head and played with her hair. It was so much finer than an African woman’s. It slipped like silk through his fingers.
‘Have you always been in the horse smuggling business?’ she asked.
‘No. I’m quite new at it. A few years ago I almost became a respectable settler — a coffee man, in fact.’
‘When was that?’
He felt her snuggle close to him. He loved the feel of her compact body pressing against his, and her warmth.
‘It’s quite a long story. Are you sure you want to hear this?’
‘There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,’ she said. ‘No one I’d rather be with.’
‘It must have been five or six years ago … yes, it was 1926, and I had just come home from the States. I had a big idea, and plenty of money, but not quite enough to get it all started.’
‘What happened?’
He explained the scheme and how all the coffee growers would share the benefits of the refinery.
‘But when the bank realised they were dealing with a native, they went into a spin. Apparently the banks have an unwritten policy not to lend to Africans. There was nothing said officially. The bank simply backed away from the agreement to extend the remaining twenty per cent I needed.’ He shrugged. ‘So nobody won.’
‘And that was how you lost your money?’
‘No. I didn’t l
ose a lot of money on that. I only lost some people I thought were friends. I lost my money, quite a deal of money in fact, through anger.’
‘Anger? What do you mean?’
‘When my business associates and friends abandoned me simply because I was a black African instead of a black American, I was stunned. But it was the institutionalised discrimination by the banks that got me angry. I was determined to strike back, to do something for the ordinary Kenyans who the banks refused to help.
‘My anger drove me into a business I had no idea how to run. When it failed, I failed a lot of people who had come to rely on me.’
She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. ‘So now it’s Abyssinian horses.’
‘Yes. For now, I’m sticking to something I know.’
Sam slipped his arm from around her shoulder and added some fuel to the fire. When he returned to the cot, Dana lifted herself onto an elbow. She placed her warm hand against his cheek, ran a fingertip down his nose, and tickled his lips with a long fingernail.
‘What will we do, Sam?’
He knew what she meant. This was more than a brief fling that could be enjoyed then forgotten.
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘All I know is that I don’t want it to end.’
CHAPTER 27
Dana drove past the Muthaiga Club’s main building and on through the car park to an area of bush beside the golf course. It was then only a short walk to the flat Sam used while in Nairobi. Both agreed it was most important to avoid raising any suspicions around the town, and a rendezvous in a Nairobi hotel was sure to be noticed. It had been a month ago that they had their first meeting at Muthaiga; and on each of the four occasions since, she’d safely made her way to his door without seeing anybody she knew.
Edward knew she was with Sam on the night of the storm when she didn’t come home until the following afternoon. On that occasion he could say nothing considering she had caught him in bed with Eliza Banfield, but Edward didn’t know they had continued to meet. Nairobi was a small town with an even smaller white community. Dana and Sam didn’t want their affair to be the topic at every dinner table from Mombasa to the lake, so discretion was essential.