Child of Africa

by T. M. Clark

  ‘You are going to need to carry that one,’ Joss said as he passed Phineas a huge tip. ‘The wheels broke first on the bridge, then the handle.’

  Phineas nodded, took the case by the middle as if damaged luggage came into the motel every day, and led the way up the stairs.

  ‘You okay?’ Peta asked as Joss entered the room. He had taken his time getting there and she was already unpacking. ‘You seem kind of slow when you walk.’

  ‘Just tired,’ he said as he sank onto the bed.

  ‘Phineas said the kitchen closes at twelve – we only have ten minutes to get our order in.’ She threw the inhouse menu his way. It landed on the floor, missing the bed completely. ‘Sorry, my aim isn’t so great. I’m having those fat, hand-cut chips with mayo, and I’m adding a bacon burger to it.’

  ‘I’ll have the same, and a chocolate milkshake.’

  She walked over to the phone on the small desk in the corner and placed the order.

  ‘Since you’re here, you can answer the door, and I’ll go have a shower.’

  ‘Sure,’ Joss said.

  She took her clothes into the en-suite and locked the door behind her.

  * * *

  Joss lay on the bed for a long while. If he just didn’t move, then he wouldn’t hurt.

  Damn, it had been a long day.

  Knowing it wasn’t over just yet, he got up, grabbed his case and tossed it onto his bed. He removed tracksuit pants, a T-shirt and his toiletries and then closed it again. He reached for the fan control and turned the speed to three. Despite the rain, it was still hot. He checked the window. It was an old sash style, the wood painted white. It was stuck and not going to open for anyone. The lock worked, although it seemed an unnecessary addition now that the window was painted shut. He was content that there would be no intruders coming through it. He dragged the chair from the table.

  There was a knock on the door as he put the chair near it. ‘Food’s here,’ he said to the closed bathroom door while he tipped the waiter. Although the shower had stopped, Peta hadn’t emerged yet.

  Once the waiter left, he jammed the chair under the old-fashioned latch to stop anyone with a key entering.

  Peta emerged from the bathroom and the steam from the shower emptied into the room, along with a heavenly scent of vanilla. ‘That feels better,’ she said as she sat cross-legged on her bed with her meal.

  Joss watched as she attacked the burger and the chips, and soon her meal was history. Courtney used to eat the same way. He’d teased her often about it.

  A heaviness settled deep inside.

  ‘Right. Teeth, then I’m hitting the sack,’ Peta said as she went back into the bathroom.

  He finished his milkshake with a satisfying slurp.

  ‘That’s disgusting,’ Peta said from the bathroom, her mouth full of toothpaste, brush still in her mouth.

  ‘Yeah, so is talking while you brush your teeth,’ he said automatically.

  ‘Eish.’

  He took the trays and put them in the passage outside the room before he replaced the chair under the handle.

  ‘I do that too,’ Peta said quietly behind him.

  ‘Good to hear. You can’t have uninvited guests in the middle of the night.’

  ‘Thanks for clearing those,’ Peta said. ‘I’m going to sleep and I’m not setting an alarm, just in case the trucks are held up again. I might get a chance to sleep in. They will call me when they’re through. What are your plans?’

  ‘A sleep-in sounds great. The South Africa side said they’d let me know when they’ve processed my bakkie.’

  ‘You realise you’re going to have to cross the bridge again tomorrow, don’t you?’

  ‘Coming over the bridge by foot was probably not the smartest thing, but to be so close to Zimbabwe and not sleep here? I wanted to sleep in my own country.’

  ‘I can understand that.’

  ‘Anyway I’d have had to go back to Musina for accommodation.’

  ‘Makes sense. See you in the morning. I hope you don’t snore.’

  ‘Not that I know of,’ Joss said, as he lifted his toiletries and went into the bathroom thinking, Thank God she didn’t ask about nightmares ...

  Joss walked out of the bathroom almost forty-five minutes later. He smiled. So much for not snoring – Peta was sleeping on her back, and her soft snore was clear over the sound of the fan that continued to beat out a steady rhythm as it circulated the hot air around the room. She had switched the main light off, but left his bedside lamp on. He ached all over, and his bed called loudly. Putting his toiletries bag on his suitcase, he switched the light off and lay on top of the bed. He was not going to sleep; he couldn’t risk it with Peta in the room. He adjusted his weight and began reciting song lyrics, anything to keep from looking at Peta or sleeping.

  * * *

  Peta woke to the sound of someone thrashing and crying out. It took a moment to remember where she was and that Joss was the man on the bed next to her. She switched on her bedside lamp, but he continued to wrestle with an imaginary demon. He’d curled up into a foetal ball and she could see sweat beading on his forehead. Whimpering. She went to him.

  ‘Joss. Wake up, Joss!’ she called and touched his arm.

  He moved faster than a cobra. He had her by the neck, choking her.

  ‘Joss! Joss, it’s Peta! It’s Peta!’ she called as she dug her nails into his hand. She could feel them draw blood and she didn’t care. He was going to kill her if she didn’t get him to wake up. ‘Joss!’ Peta screamed, yet it came out so quiet.

  She was going to die.

  She tried to slap his face. Although he still sat on the bed, his legs were now over the side, and she kicked at them, connecting not with flesh, but something hard. Unnatural. She didn’t have time to process the oddness as she tried to take her next breath. His hand was tightening.

  ‘Joss, it’s Peta, Courtney’s sister. Please let me go,’ she begged, and she brought her hands back to attempt to break his choke-hold on her neck, trying to wiggle her fingers beneath his.

  His free hand pushed on her front, connecting with her chest. For a moment it seemed to grab her breast and squeeze. Then he let go of both her throat and her breast.

  She dropped to the floor, clutching at her throat.

  He shook his head as if waking up. ‘Oh my God, Peta. Are you okay?’ He reached out his hand.

  ‘Don’t touch me,’ she croaked.

  ‘I’m so sorry. The nightmares ... oh my God, Peta, I could have killed you …’

  ‘Yes, you could have.’

  ‘I’m sorry. It’s not who I am. I don’t hurt women. You shouldn’t have touched me!’

  ‘A bit late now. One day you’re going to kill someone in your sleep.’

  ‘I’m so sorry. They’re nightmares from the war zone—’

  ‘I get that. Twenty years on and my father still cries out some nights. But some warning would have been nice!’ She still rubbed her neck.

  Joss was silent for a while. Then he said, ‘I didn’t warn you because I didn’t want you to know.’

  ‘You didn’t want me to know you have nightmares?’

  ‘I told you I would sleep in your bakkie, I tried to not share a room—’

  ‘But you didn’t say why!’

  ‘Would it’ve made a difference?’

  ‘No. Everyone has nightmares at some stage in their lives. No wonder you look so tired. Even a marine needs a good sleep.’

  ‘I can sleep tomorrow, when you’re gone and not in harm’s way. I shouldn’t have relaxed in your company.’

  Peta shook her head. ‘If that’s relaxed, I don’t want to know you when you’re pumped for war.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’ve had them ever since I was in the Middle East. They leave me weak, feeling vulnerable, but I’ve never hurt anyone before. In Headley Court, everyone knows how to wake someone quickly and step aside, get out of the way of a marine’s hands.’

  ‘What’s Headley Court?’
>
  ‘Just somewhere Royal Marines go. I’m sorry, I should have warned you, I shouldn’t have slept. I’ll move to the bakkie—’

  ‘No, don’t go. It’s okay, you’re awake now anyway and it’s still raining.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘No buts,’ she said. ‘I’ll be fine. You just gave me a fright.’ She tried to sound as if he hadn’t hurt her but her throat was sore and it came out husky.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again. He reached over and put the bedside lamp on. ‘Come on, let me at least help you up,’ he said, holding out a hand.

  Peta was crouched on the carpet, and she saw that Joss still had his shoes on. Without thinking, she reached out and pulled his tracksuit pants up on one leg. There was black plastic and silver bars instead of soft skin.

  ‘Don’t—’

  She did the same on the next one.

  ‘Oh my God, Joss, your legs are gone!’

  ‘No, I have half a leg still,’ he said.

  ‘What the hell happened to you?’ she asked as she climbed onto her bed, her throat forgotten.

  ‘How’re you feeling?’ Joss asked.

  Ignoring the question, she said, ‘How long have you been travelling to get here? How long can a mighty marine go without sleep?’

  His eyes were downcast and his shoulders sagged, as if all the fight had gone out of him.

  ‘I should apologise to you. I sort of insisted, and I didn’t give you any chance to talk, to tell me anything.’ She wrapped her arms around herself. ‘I just bulldozed as normal, just did my own thing, never gave you the chance. Courtney used to tell me I was the bossiest sister around when she was younger.’

  ‘You gave me plenty of chances to say something, Peta; I chose not to.’

  ‘Even I wouldn’t mow down a person on purpose. It might just dent Nguni,’ she said.

  ‘Come here,’ Joss said, opening his arms to comfort her. ‘The least I can do is help the shaking stop. I can see you’re shivering from here.’

  Her knees didn’t want to support her weight as Joss took her in his surprisingly strong arms.

  ‘It’s okay, Peta, it’s shock. The shakes will stop, the anger will come back, and then your body will return to normal,’ he said.

  ‘I’m cold,’ Peta said as she burrowed into the warmth of him.

  ‘Try to relax.’ He held her close. He ran his hands up and down her back as she sat on the bed next to him, his legs still hanging over the side.

  Eventually she stopped shaking, and she hiccupped. ‘I’ve snotted on your shirt.’

  ‘I’ve had a lot worse than snot on my shirt.’

  ‘I’m such an idiot. All the signs were there and I—I didn’t see them. You were slow, your custom bakkie – it’s not custom as in flashy, it’s custom as in modified. I’m an idiot. You’re an idiot. What type of cripple walks across Beit Bridge?’

  ‘I’m not a cripple, just managing my life in a new way.’

  ‘I bet if we hadn’t shared this room, I wouldn’t have ever known, would I? Don’t answer, it’s rhetorical ... I know you wouldn’t have told me. You never told Courtney. She never knew, did she? Oh no, Courtney – when? When did this happen?’ she asked. ‘When did you become, you know ...’

  ‘May fourteenth, 2009.’

  Peta stilled. ‘One more question then I promise no more.’

  ‘Don’t promise things, Peta. Promises are too easily broken.’

  ‘Did you know about Courtney when this happened? Did you know she had cancer and was asking you to come and hold her hand?’

  ‘No. Not when it happened, but afterwards. And no, she didn’t know. I spun her a story about being indispensable to the marines. I was still flat on my back and had only just had my legs taken. Until a few months back when I transferred from recovery into assisted living, I was in no state to travel anywhere, no matter how much I wanted to. Peta, I came as soon as I could, even though I know I was already eighteen months too late. I came home.’

  CHAPTER

  4

  Getting Reacquainted

  The sound of ‘Walking on Sunshine’ by Katrina and the Waves came from her phone.

  ‘Are you going to get up and answer it?’ Joss said.

  The phone stopped ringing.

  She lifted her arm from where it lay across him and sat up.

  ‘Morning,’ he said.

  The phone started ringing again. Peta slipped off Joss’s bed and walked around hers. ‘Hello ... Fantastic. Give me five minutes to shower and I’ll catch up. Any problems ... Perfect. See you in a little while. Bye.’ She hung up. ‘The trucks are through and it’s—’ She looked at the screen on her phone. ‘Oh my God, it’s almost one in the afternoon. How did I sleep the whole day away? Why did you let me sleep so long?’

  ‘You obviously needed it.’

  She looked at him, still lying on the bed, and at his plastic feet. She dragged her eyes back to his face.

  ‘You’ve got some game trucks to catch up with. It’s time you get going.’

  ‘Right, I need to shower. No news on your bakkie yet?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  She nodded then closed the bathroom door and turned on the shower. ‘Are you going to be okay waiting here?’ she called.

  ‘Yeah,’ Joss replied. Then he mumbled, ‘And I might even get to take my legs off and get some proper sleep.’

  He smiled and shook his head. As a Royal Marine, he was used to going without sleep, had even trained to withstand torture, but lying next to Peta and listening to her in the shower was an altogether new kind of anguish for him. He knew once he might have played having a beautiful girl in his shower to his advantage, but that man was long gone. The Joss who greeted him in the mirror nowadays didn’t do that type of thing. He had to remember to be responsible, to plan ahead, to avoid cases like last night, where he got into an ‘unhealthy situation’.

  He should have refused the offer of the lift. He knew he shouldn’t have walked across the bridge in the first place, but he’d wanted to wake up knowing he was home in Zimbabwe, knowing he was almost at the end of his long journey.

  Peta finished in the bathroom, and came back into the bedroom with the towel twirled around her hair turban style.

  He swallowed hard, his eyes drawn to her neck. He had left his mark on her, dark bruises in the shape of a necklace, his fingerprints clearly visible.

  ‘Did you look in the mirror?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘No.’ She brought her fingers up to her throat as if she had forgotten about the incident, then went into the bathroom again. She didn’t utter a sound but came out and dug in her small bag until she found a grey cosmetics case then returned to the bathroom.

  She remained behind the closed door for a long time and just as Joss was about to call out, she emerged.

  ‘Ta-dah!’ she said. ‘Did I get them all?’

  She had applied make-up to her face and her whole neck area, and yet she didn’t look like a painted geisha. Peta was girl-next-door pretty, but with make-up on, she was magazine-pin-up beautiful, with smoky eyes and sparkling pink lips. His eyes travelled down her neck and there was no sign that underneath the paint and powder was evidence that, for the first time in his life, he’d hurt a woman.

  ‘You’re amazing,’ he said.

  ‘Thanks. It’s too darn hot to wear a polo neck. Anyway, I don’t have one handy.’

  Half an hour ago he’d held her while she’d slept, her long eyelashes dark against her fair skin, freckles clearly visible across her nose and cheeks, testament to many hours spent under the African sun. But that person was gone and in her place was a businesswoman. She wore khaki shorts and shirt with an Africa Wildlife In Crisis logo embroidered over her left breast. She was all professional.

  He knew that their time together was over. He remembered when she had joined her father in Africa Wildlife In Crisis (AWIC), the international wildlife monitoring charity that worked alongside the World Bank and governments to try to manage the wildlife
of Africa with transfrontier conservation areas. That was the year his folks had been killed.

  ‘Thanks for being so good about this. It’s more than I could expect, or ask, of anyone.’ But he wondered how she knew how to cover that type of bruising.

  ‘It was an accident – I don’t know anything that’s happened in your life since you joined the Royal British Marines, but I do know the Joss I knew as a kid, the one who was Courtney’s best friend, would never intentionally hurt me,’ she said. ‘You’re the one who saved orphaned elephant babies, and every other animal.’ She paused. ‘You’re getting help with it, aren’t you? The nightmares? Seeing a counsellor ...’ Her voice was quieter, as if uncertain she should talk about the subject.

  Joss nodded. ‘I am. It’s better than it used to be. Some nights I don’t have them at all.’

  ‘How are you going to continue your sessions in Zim?’

  ‘I’ve got teleconference sessions set up with my counsellor. Believe me, the other vets in my sharehouse wouldn’t have let me come otherwise. I’m surprised they didn’t all try to come with me, that they’ve let me do this alone.’

  ‘You’re kidding me?’

  ‘Dead serious. You’ll get to meet them someday. I give it a few weeks and they’ll rock up here to check out my progress, see if I’m sliding back into a shit pile.’

  ‘Shit pile?’

  ‘There were complications with the procedure and I had to have multiple operations. My progress was slower than others who were injured at the same time. I called it the bandage-stage shit pile, and it stuck. The time when I couldn’t walk, even on stubbies, waiting for my legs to recover. And after I started to heal, I just wanted to get back to a real life.’

  ‘So, no anger?’

  ‘Of course there was anger, but then I realised that while I’m not indestructible, I’m still a marine. Once you start on the road to recovery, you soon itch to get back into society. Some even go straight back to the front line, others get rehabilitated, reintegrated into civilian life ...’

  ‘And you?’ Peta asked.

  ‘Leave of absence. I’ve got some time owed to me. I’m in no hurry to make any decisions either way. So the goal at the moment is to get fitter and compete in a triathlon or two. Consider my options.’ ‘Are you serious? Triathlons?’ Peta shook her head as she closed her case. ‘At least it’s not back to war.’