‘It can get cold out there before the sun comes up, so you might want these,’ Ngoni said, passing us some heavy woollen blankets from the front passenger seat.
Watching animals in the African plains from under a woolly blanket?! The day couldn’t get any better. I gratefully took the blanket that Jimmy tossed over his shoulder, draped it over my legs, pulled it up to my waist, tucked each side in, then sat up, straight as an A-grade student, and waited.
Ngoni grinned from the front. ‘You ready?’
‘YES!!’ I literally screamed.
Jimmy shook his head and smirked. Ngoni chuckled, started the engine and swung the jeep out of the car park. In a convoy of six open vehicles we bumped down a hard-packed mud road, following the line of an extremely high wire fence and stopped at a set of gates. The driver of the front jeep pressed some buttons on a keypad at the entrance and the gates slid open. Once through, the jeeps dispersed in different directions and within moments the others couldn’t be seen or heard. A cool wind whipped up as we drove and I buried my chin in my jacket. The booking information Lana had sent along with her email had said to bring gloves, woolly hats and thermals, and when I read that information in the apartment in Cape Town, sitting in direct line of the air conditioning and still sweating along my top lip, I didn’t think it possible to be freezing in Africa. But freezing it was and I pulled the blanket higher and tucked it tighter. We lurched down a rutted track. Bushes with thousands of inch-long spikes scratched at the canvas roof of the jeep. The sky was still dark but you could sense the burgeoning dawn in the sounds of birds and the silvery glow coming from behind the far-off mountains. Ngoni deftly navigated the terrain while imparting his knowledge of the plants, the plains, the weather, the bugs, the origin of the game reserve and the conservation and anti-poacher policies they adhered to. After about twenty minutes the sky had lightened to a white-ish blue. Low streaks of wispy cloud lay like grey chiffon scarves across the horizon. Ngoni pulled the jeep over beside a bristly bush and pointed across the expansive scrubland. In the distance, loping across the plains, its silhouette blue-grey against the whitening sky, was a solitary giraffe.
The bristly bush was partially obscuring my view, so I clambered over the seats and sat in the one behind Jimmy. In unison we leant out of the side of the jeep. A breeze chilled the tip of my nose.
‘Oh my god,’ I breathed.
It was that single image that made me fully comprehend that I was in a very foreign country. Not the baboons, or the penguins, or the heat, or the beaches, or the weird accent I’d come to find melodic, or the other languages spoken in the streets that had clicks I found impossible to replicate, or the cheap yet delicious wine. A giraffe walking by itself, doing its own giraffe thing, on a vast scrubby African plain, was what made me realise where I was. And how lucky I was to be there. I breathed out the longest sigh of extreme content.
‘This is pretty cool,’ Jimmy said in a low voice, his eyes on the lolloping giraffe.
‘Over here,’ Ngoni said quietly, pointing in the opposite direction.
Jimmy and I spun in our seats.
The head of a giraffe appeared behind a huge bush, maybe only fifteen feet from us. Ngoni cut the engine, which gave me a brief internal panic. What if a rhino suddenly charged us and we wasted valuable seconds restarting the car? The giraffe moved slowly, elongating a huge blue-ish tongue and curling it around the spiky branches before swallowing down the leaves. Then next to him another head appeared. And then another. Ngoni spoke about the giraffe’s digestive system, how and why it dined on the most unpalatable of plants, and imparted various other fascinating facts, all delivered in a low, respectful voice. Within a few minutes six giraffes were moving around the jeep, eating from the bushes and glancing our way indifferently. I’d seen pictures of giraffes, of course; I’d read alphabet books where G was for giraffe, I’d watched Madagascar with Hunter and Katie, and I’d been to the zoo and seen them standing as far from the public as possible, eating hay from the ground; but being so close, looking at their exotic markings, their weird longs legs and their freakish necks made them a completely different creature to me. They were graceful yet ungainly and seemed the most polite of animals. The herd moved around the jeep and I tracked them with my gaze till I was looking at them over Jimmy’s shoulder. Inside I was a ragtag bag of confusing emotions. I was elated at being in Africa, so close to these incredible creatures; I was sad that Pete wasn’t with me, but happy that Jimmy was; I missed Hunter and Katie, and felt guilty for not being with Annabelle, but I also had a new feeling. A dizzying freedom of doing exactly what I wanted in that exact moment. I felt like simultaneously whooping and weeping and clapping and crying.
I looked at the back of Jimmy’s head. His hair curled at the nape of his tanned neck. If he lived back in London it probably would have been dark blond but here in Cape Town it had been bleached to a golden colour. I wondered how the trip would have differed had Pete stayed with me. I’d still have made him sit in front, not blocking my view, but would I have been so relaxed as I felt right then? Would he have been embarrassed by the horde of naive questions I threw at Ngoni? Would he have wanted to look like he already knew all the answers?
I leant forward and whispered in Jimmy’s ear. ‘I think giraffes are my favourite animal.’
Jimmy chuckled then turned his head and kissed me on the cheek. Startled, I looked into his eyes, smiled then sat back in my seat and looked out of the side of the jeep. Jimmy continued to face the front but I could tell, by the movement of his muscles, that he was smiling.
‘Ready to go?’ Ngoni asked us after a long while where we just existed alongside the giraffes. ‘You have enough pictures?’
I’d barely taken any, preferring to just watch the animals be themselves but quickly took out my phone and snapped a few more to send to Hunter, Katie and Lana when I got home.
‘Ready,’ I said.
I could have stayed there all day, close enough to hear the giraffes breathing rhythmically through their huge nostrils and crunching down on the barbed branches.
We drove on and stopped next at a wide-open flat area where a herd of zebra and a herd of buffalo were mingling at the edge of a murky stretch of water. From my seat I was straining to hear Ngoni, so I moved a row closer and sat next to Jimmy. Ngoni seemed to have an endless amount of knowledge. It didn’t matter what questions we (I) fired at him, he answered them all with a pile of information that always incited more questions. On my behalf, anyway. Within the hour we’d stopped at various spots to view buffalo, rhino, hippo in a lake from afar (because they were the most dangerous animal of them all), kudu, gemsbok, eland and zebra so often they became common. I’d clambered closer row by row until I was in the front with Ngoni, engaging in ceaseless conversation while Jimmy sat in a middle row enjoying the scenery. Ngoni mentioned that the springbok is South Africa’s principal member of the gazelles and I stiffened at the word that triggered images of French braids, pink gums and nice armpits. But as we turned a corner and a family of elephants came into view, flanked at a respectful distance by their rangers, I forgot all about Giselle and her plaits and watched the majestic, emotionally intelligent, community-minded animals protecting their young while pulling great branches from trees. They were huge. I loved them and wanted to jump out and hug them and take them home and feed them apple segments and have them sleep in my bedroom and cuddle me with their trunk. When we’d had our fill of elephants we drove with a bit more speed towards a set of gates. Beyond a fifty-foot-wide perimeter was another set of gates. It all looked very Guantánamo Bay.
‘What’s this?’
‘The lions,’ Ngoni said.
‘But we’ve got no sides to the jeep!’ I said, scanning the jeep for hiding places.
‘You’re safe with me,’ Ngoni grinned his uber-white grin. ‘No need to worry.’
I looked at his single rifle propped between the seats and tried not to imagine a blood-splattered, limbs-torn-from-torso-type situation
where more than one lion attacked from more than one side of the jeep. But luckily no lions were visible as we drove though the dusty area. We made our way through another set of gates, parked next to an open-sided tower on stilts and were told to exit the jeep.
‘Don’t worry,’ Ngoni said, noting my hands gripping the seat with white knuckles. ‘This is an enclosure within the enclosure. Lions can’t get in here.’
Ngoni led us out of the jeep and up some steep ladder-like steps. At the top we were greeted by a man and a woman, and asked if we’d like coffee or tea. A white cloth was spread over a large waist-high centre table and linen-lined baskets held fresh croissants, pastries and fruit. From the top of the tower we could see the sun, pale yellow, rising above the mountains, turning the sky peachy-pink.
‘Listen,’ Ngoni said, coming to stand next to Jimmy and me with a white teacup wafting hot steam into the cool air.
At first, I heard nothing but birds chittering and bugs making clicking noises, but then a single roar echoed across the scrubland. And then another and another.
‘The lions are waking,’ Ngoni said with a grin.
He left Jimmy and me to appreciate the moment alone. The breeze was still cool but the coffee warmed my hands. I looked at Jimmy leaning against a wooden post.
‘This is probably one of the best days of my life,’ I said, resting my elbows on the edge of the tower wall and sipping my coffee.
Jimmy mirrored my position and smiled. ‘Me too.’
Shoulder to shoulder we gazed down from the tower and listened to the lions. We watched the sun change the colours of the sky and light up the plains, then ate fresh croissants and sipped coffee until Ngoni said it was time to go again. We drove out of the safety of the fenced-off tower and back through the lions’ enclosure, this time driving right through the middle of the lions. It was the only time Ngoni did not stop the vehicle but instead made a steady track through them and I found myself letting out a tense breath when we reached the double gates and left them behind.
We watched animals for another hour or so, this time Jimmy and I sitting side by side, our thighs pressed up against each other, then, when the sun was high in the sky, Ngoni drove us back to the car park. As we exited the jeep I felt like I’d experienced something meaningful. I hugged Ngoni again and this time he hugged me back. An early lunch was ready for us, which we ate by the pool. We were so tired we barely spoke. After lunch we were taken to the cheetah rehabilitation area. I loved learning all about the animals and again asked far more questions than anybody else; after some time all the other guests remained quiet, certain that I would eventually ask the same question they had in mind. At 2 p.m. Trust arrived in the car park; he’d stayed in the drivers’ accommodation somewhere on the grounds, and took the bags from our weary arms. Half an hour into our journey Jimmy and I were asleep against each other.
CHAPTER TWENTY
‘Aw, man!’ Jimmy’s voice reverberated off the inside of the freezer where he was immersed almost to his armpits trying to locate some ‘epic’ frozen yoghurt.
He’d started talking about it as soon as we’d woken and by the time Trust dropped us off outside Ian and Diego’s he was salivating like one of Pavlov’s particularly hungry dogs. He’d bidden Trust a hasty but genuine thanks, burst through the front door, dumped his backpack on the floor and made a sweaty beeline past Diego and Pamela, prepping a meal at the kitchen island, to the freezer.
‘That bastard!’ Jimmy said, brandishing the open container in Diego’s face.
Diego smirked. ‘He was pissed about the grapes.’
‘What’s going on?’ I said, handing Diego a box of fresh raspberries I’d bought from a man at the side of the road and walking around to look at the cause of Jimmy’s distress.
In the bottom of the empty organic frozen Madagascan vanilla yoghurt container was a crude drawing of a hand with an extended middle finger.
‘Jimmy ate half of Ian’s grapes and Ian was not happy,’ Diego said to me, his hands in a glass bowl, massaging kale.
‘He said to leave him half,’ Jimmy said, looking anguished. He brandished the yogurt container at Pamela, who was chopping up mountains of basil, and she smiled and shook her head.
‘You know what you did,’ Diego said to Jimmy with a look of reprimand. He turned to me again. ‘He ate half, all right. Of each grape.’
Jimmy dumped the frozen yoghurt container in the recycling bin while Diego, Pamela and I shared a covert chuckle.
‘So, sweet girl, if I make you sangria will you stay and tell me all about your trip?’
I grinned.
‘I’m going to unpack,’ Jimmy said, defeated. He grabbed his backpack by the straps and scuffed his feet across the room, his bag banging against the backs of his tanned calves.
‘I’d give your room a once-over,’ Diego said to his receding back.
Jimmy turned in the doorway. ‘Why?’
‘After Ian found the grapes he spent quite a bit of time down there. He had glue, food colouring and glitter with him.’
Jimmy groaned and trundled, heavy-footed, out of the room.
*
Around 6 p.m., Ian came home and we all partook of Diego’s chilled sangria while sitting in the early-evening sun on the balcony. Jimmy, who’d spent an hour scouring his room for booby traps and had ended up throwing out all of his bathroom products for fear of glue/food colouring contamination and raging upon discovering his drawers and the pockets of his hanging clothes filled with pink and orange glitter, sat beside me, the sinking sun making him squint attractively and turning his skin a deep golden colour. Although he was usually in possession of a graze of accidentally stylish stubble, it had grown thicker over the past two days on safari and as he rested back on the outdoor sofa, his arm stretched out across the backrest towards me, he looked roguish and striking.
‘Oh, what a princess!’ Diego said, looking at a photo of Katie dressed as Elsa on my phone. He showed it to Ian.
‘Princess,’ Ian confirmed with a smile.
Jimmy wriggled in his seat, his face showing discomfort.
‘How are you going there, squirmy?’ Ian said, a knowing glint in his eyes.
Jimmy, who’d showered and changed into fresh clothes, stood and shook his shorts, sending a flurry of orange glitter over the balcony floor.
‘It’s itchy,’ he said, frustrated.
Ian looked extremely pleased with himself.
‘She’s beautiful,’ Diego said, turning the phone to face me. ‘Is that Annabelle?’
I nodded.
Jimmy sat back down next to me and rested his hand on my knee. It was a familiar, intimate gesture that he wasn’t even aware he was making. I liked the warm weight of it.
I watched Jimmy’s smiling profile as he told Ian and Diego about the safari and how I’d wanted to take every animal (except the gazelles) home with me. Ian noticed Jimmy’s hand and gave me a twinkly smile, making me blush.
Diego and Ian asked lots of questions about my family, my job, my childhood. I could tell they were being careful not to enquire about Pete, which was something I appreciated. As the two of them moved on to pictures of the safari, their heads touching as they scrolled through the phone, Jimmy turned to me.
‘Do you want to come to a festival on Thursday?’ he said, removing his hand from my knee to pull at his shorts, releasing more glitter. ‘We’ve got a spare ticket because my mate dislocated his shoulder sandboarding.’
‘Sandboarding?’
‘Like snowboarding but on massive sand dunes.’
‘Doesn’t anyone just stay still in South Africa?’
‘Not really,’ Jimmy said, grinning, and then he told me about the festival and how it was in the countryside about three hours’ drive away and was on, actually on, a river. ‘So, you keen?’
‘It sounds amazing but I can’t,’ I said. ‘Pete’s due back tomorrow.’
‘Oh yeah,’ Jimmy said. ‘Forgot.’
Across the table Ian was watching
our exchange. He smiled when he caught my eye.
‘They had babies!’ Diego said as he came across a photo of the elephants. He continued to scroll through, asking questions and showing the screen to Ian. When he came across a couple of the hut we’d stayed in he raised his eyebrows. ‘Only one bed . . .?’
Jimmy grinned and shook his head.
Pamela and Diego served prawns and salad for dinner and we sat outside on the balcony exchanging stories. Through the calm contentedness I felt a sadness. With Pete coming back I realised it would mean not seeing much, if anything, of Diego, Ian and Jimmy.
After dinner had been cleared away and we’d had our aperitif we all started yawning. Diego stood and said he needed to get to bed as he had an early class.
‘Will we see you again, sweet girl?’ he said, his thick eyebrows sloping.
‘I don’t know . . .’ I said, feeling sad. It seemed unlikely. ‘Maybe not . . .’
‘Well then, come here!’ He held out his arms and told me to keep in touch, to be sure to update him with any more music industry gossip and to remember to email him the link for the podcasts of my mother’s radio show. ‘And we shall skype and text and you absolutely must come back!’ He gave me one last extra-firm squeeze, then Ian took his place.
‘I’m sure this won’t be the last time we see you,’ he said, glancing at his younger brother. ‘Make sure you keep in contact.’
I nodded and hugged him while Jimmy looked on with a strange smile. I had to hold back tears, which was weird and a bit unexpected after knowing people for only a week, but Jimmy, Ian and Diego had been so open and welcoming it seemed like I’d known them much longer.
Amid a flurry of blown kisses Diego and Ian left for bed. Jimmy and I sat side by side on the balcony sofa, finishing off the last of the sangria and watching the lights from the container ships move across the horizon. After half an hour Jimmy could barely contain his yawning. I gave Lucy an extra-big scratch on her tummy, gave Flora a curt nod, jumped in Jimmy’s car and, fifteen minutes later, we drove through the security gates to the apartment. Jimmy pulled into a space and put on the handbrake instead of stopping at the doors, keeping the car in gear, like he usually did.
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