But it didn’t. Four years had gone by. One by one, her friends had settled down. Even Richard, who’d sworn to be a bachelor forever (and changed his mind about five minutes after meeting Emma). Even Gemma, who’d declared after an exhaustive few years of speed dating and internet dating that there wasn’t one good man left anywhere in London, then met Marcus at a bus stop. Even Simon, who’d taken a three-month sabbatical to go backpacking in Brazil and had come back with a South African fiancée.
She’d got on with it. She’d filled her life with friends and new experiences. She’d started a successful freelance design business. She’d bought a flat. She’d put love to one side and somewhere along the way, she’d given up hoping. These days she didn’t think about it much, but when she did, she thought that maybe it was just that everyone got a quota of ‘I love you’s, and she’d used hers up on the wrong men.
Cassie breathed in the scent of the cool morning air as it curled around her – earth and damp grass and the faint tang of ash. Almost immediately they came across a herd of lady impalas, raising their ballerina necks to look up at them. Luke stopped for a few minutes to explain the antelopes’ social structure, before a sharp crack of branches signified an elephant feeding up ahead. They drove on slowly and there he was – an old bull, who threw them a cursory glance as he continued his leisurely stroll along the roadside. Further on, two giraffes blinked slowly at them as they chewed their lofty breakfasts, and Luke paused to point out a lilac-breasted roller, its jewel-coloured feathers darting bright against the vegetation. Then suddenly, a cheetah flashed in front of the vehicle and was gone almost before they’d seen it, disappearing into the grass on the other side like it had thrown on an invisibility cloak. Energy buzzed through them. Hangovers were immediately forgotten, cameras poised and eyes peeled for another wildlife sighting. Before long they had a crash of white rhinos, a dazzle of zebras and a bloat of hippos to add to their list.
On they went, Maatla’s sharp eyes scanning the tall grass while he made almost imperceptible hand signals to Luke indicating whether he should slow, stop or change direction. Cassie couldn’t help but smile at their driver’s enthusiasm. No creature seemed too insignificant to bypass his attention, and his obvious enjoyment was infectious. He’d even managed to make a dung beetle seem interesting, when they stopped to watch it roll its cargo along the dusty road, the ‘clean-up crew’ of the bush, as Luke called it. They learned about the medicinal uses of trees, the differences between mambas and cobras, the crisis of rhino poaching. They paused to watch buffalos drinking at a waterhole, to let a troop of baboons with babies on their backs pass in front of them, to listen to the ‘tink tink tink’ of a Blacksmith Plover. The cool of the early morning passed into summer heat, a symphony of cicadas rose around them, and the chorus of good-natured banter between the boys swelled along with it.
Then, when the sun was already high in the sky, just as they were heading for home and a welcome brunch, they came across a fresh kill – a buffalo left by the side of the road at an intersection with a dry riverbed. Maatla told them it was a lion kill, but none were anywhere to be seen. Even so, they rolled up right next to the carcass and cut the engine.
Luke pointed out the hyenas on the ridge above them, the vultures that were sitting in nearby trees. ‘They won’t come down here until the lions have really gone,’ he explained. ‘They’re probably just around that bend. We’ll wait a bit. There are no guarantees, of course, but sometimes…’ He smiled. ‘Sometimes you just have to read the signs, take a risk, and hope you’re lucky.’
So there they sat. Five minutes. Ten. Fifteen. It began to drag. Luke started the engine again.
‘Wait!’ Maatla raised his arm and pointed. There, from around the bend, came a lion, padding along the riverbed and shaking his golden mane, like a mirage rising from the heat and dust. Behind him trotted a lioness. The jeep was dead silent; everyone seemed to hold their breath. Only the occasional whir and click of a camera broke the stillness inside as the magnificent pair drew up no more than a few arm’s lengths away and resumed their meal, paying the humans no more attention than the occasional cool glare or irate ear flick.
It was breathtaking, unlike anything Cassie had experienced before, and a million miles from Longleat. She felt humbled in their presence, awed, so very lucky. To be here in this moment, so close to the lions, to have this view all to themselves. And they’d almost missed it. She felt a surge of pure happiness flow through her. For just a second, she closed her eyes, basking in the feeling. When she opened them, Luke was looking straight at her. The surge became a charge, a pure spark of electricity and joy that passed between them before she could look away, and when she did, the look was seared into her mind. What on earth was THAT?
*
Back at the lodge, Cassie washed the sheen of copper earth from her skin in her outdoor shower and wrapped herself in a fresh robe. She couldn’t stop thinking about that look. How safe and warm she’d felt in it. Which was ridiculous, obviously. It was a look, that was all. It’s not like love at first sight was a real thing, was it? It would be impossible to share the kind of connection she imagined she’d felt with a stranger, surely. And yet, it echoed maddeningly within her.
She slipped into her dress, a soft blush crepe with lace cap sleeves that skimmed her wobbly bits perfectly. The shopping gods had blessed her with this one. It was too hot to fuss with her hair too much, so she wound it into a simple chignon and dabbed a bit of perfume on her wrists.
‘Time to go, Cass!’ Gemma burst in, exclaiming how fabulous she looked before vetoing her first choice of shoe and borrowing her lip gloss. For a second it felt like the old days again, a Saturday night at uni, or when they’d shared a flat in Tooting, scraping the rent together on their meagre entry-level salaries.
Marcus appeared at the door to escort them to the ceremony, declaring his fiancée a stone-cold fox (‘You look lovely too, Cass, obviously’). Gemma glowed and blushed as he placed a tiny kiss on her suntanned shoulder. They were adorable, there was no doubt about it. Pity there weren’t more Marcuses to go around.
The ceremony was due to take place outdoors, so they all piled into safari vehicles and set off with the guides. Cassie looked for Luke, but he was nowhere to be seen. Up a hill they came upon their destination – a clearing in the bush where white lace ribbons fluttered in the breeze, hung from the branches of an ancient Baobab tree. Clouds swirled high in the endless sky, the gold grass rustled gently, the sun melted slowly down towards the horizon. They sat on white chairs, along with the fifty-or-so other guests. Simon stood nervously at the top of the aisle with Rich beside him, trying to calm him with bad jokes.
Then the marimba band struck up a tune, and the bride and her father appeared. Liesl was radiant. Simon was wiping his eyes – even Richard looked a little overcome. Throughout the ceremony they held hands so tightly Cassie thought it must hurt, never taking their eyes off one another.
Maybe it was the perfect setting, but here in the middle of all this tangible emotion, Cassie was suddenly acutely aware she’d given up on her own happy ending. It had seemed the thing to do. But had she given up too soon?
It wasn’t a question Cassie wanted to think about, but it folded into the back of her mind and stayed there. Through the vows and the sundowner drinks, and the trip back to the lodge in the dark, and the meal and the speeches, and the shooters and the crazy dancefloor moves. And it was there late that night, as she sat by one of the fire pits outside the reception, wrapped in her complimentary pashmina and sipping a glass of champagne.
‘Mind if I join you?’ a voice behind her asked. It was Luke.
‘Of course not,’ Cassie said, trying to control her face while her heart threatened to beat its way out of her chest. Seriously, what was going on?
‘I was hoping I’d see you again. How did you enjoy the game drive this morning?’ he asked, his voice deep and soft. He watched for her answer, genuinely interested.
‘It was amazing
!’ Cassie answered, grinning. ‘I had no idea I’d feel that way, watching the lions, being so close to everything. And this place in general –’ she waved her hand at the lodge and the dark night beyond – ‘I can’t remember the last time I went without phone service, and I’ve barely noticed.’
Luke nodded. He didn’t seem in a hurry to change the subject.
She paused, looking into the fire. ‘I feel different here. More…I don’t know. Me? After we got back, I spent the afternoon sketching – it’s the first time I’ve done that in ages. Does that sound crazy?’
He smiled. ‘Actually, it’s why I moved here. I used to work as a banker in Johannesburg, but every chance I got I’d come out to the bush. Ever since I was a child, I’ve been in love with it. I feel like I’m at my most alive and at the same time my most at peace when I’m here. So one day I just thought, what am I waiting for? Unfortunately, my girlfriend at the time didn’t see it that way. Living out here wasn’t part of her plan.’
‘I’m sorry. That must have been hard.’
He smiled, dimples deepening. ‘No, it’s OK. Maybe I’m naïve but I’ve always just sort of believed that things would work out the way they’re supposed to. When the timing’s right. It’s like how everything out in the bush is in sync – you know the butterfly theory? Well, in a way, that’s what it’s like here. Everything affects everything else in nature, and it all works together in this perfect rhythm. And maybe it’s like that for us too, you know? Maybe there’s this machine working all the time, to make sure when the moment is right that you end up…’
‘Exactly where you’re supposed to be?’ Cassie ventured.
Their eyes met again. ‘Exactly where we’re supposed to be,’ Luke agreed.
While the wedding continued inside, they talked and laughed. About nothing, and everything. Being together felt as easy as breathing. Was it really possible they’d only met this morning? He told her stories from his childhood, his adventures as a ranger, Tswana legends Maatla knew about the animals. They tipped their heads back and looked up at the night sky, so clear and bright it was like looking up at a net of stars. Luke pointed out the Southern Cross and told her how it was only visible on this side of the equator and was once used by sailors to find their way.
Eventually, when the music had stopped and the last guests were heading for bed, he took her hand and walked her to her room, and Cassie thought she might explode if he didn’t kiss her. And then he did.
*
The next morning, Gemma was at reception, settling the bill while Marcus put their bags in the car.
‘Where’s your suitcase, Cass?’ she asked. ‘We’re about to go.’
Cassie took a deep breath. ‘I’m not going on the buddymoon.’
Gemma absorbed this for a moment.
‘Is this about that ranger bloke I saw you go off with last night? But Cassie! You hardly know him. A holiday romance is good and well, but we’ve everything booked for the next couple of weeks! Don’t you think this is a bit mad?’
Cassie nodded. ‘Maybe. Definitely. But we’re just getting to know each other and…’ She wondered how she could explain it, the sense of rightness that she felt around Luke. That she needed to explore.
Gemma looked at her like she was mad. ‘But even if it goes well…you hardly know him, and the distance, even if you do work freelance… What are you going to do eventually, stay here in the middle of paradise and be loved up and sell paintings of animals to tourists?’
‘Would that be so bad?’
‘Yes!’ Gemma exclaimed, then burst out laughing. ‘Well, actually…that does sound pretty amazing. But are you sure?’
‘No,’ Cassie smiled, ‘but sometimes…’ What was it Luke had said? ‘I think sometimes you just have to read the signs, take a risk and hope you’re lucky.’
Later that evening, as Luke lit the fire outside his ranger’s hut and marinated the steaks for the grill, Cassie stood at the edge of the veranda, wrapped in one of his rugby jerseys, glass of cold Chenin Blanc in hand. The sun had dipped below the tree line, and in its place the moon was rising, the sky racing from grey to inky black. Contentment rippled over her like a sigh. A nightjar chimed in a nearby tree, and in the distance she could hear a hippo snort and bellow.
Somewhere out in the bush beyond, the dung beetle rolled his last haul along the dusty track, lions slept with full bellies, a butterfly flapped its wings one final time and came to rest. Everything was different. Everything was magical. She was exactly where she should be.
And the stars came out over Africa.
About the Author
Ella Fairlie was born and bred in South Africa, but ran off to see the world as soon as she had a literature degree. She has lived in New York, Milan and London (and been fashionable in none of them). For ten years, she worked in book publishing, before becoming a full-time blogger and digital nomad (wherever she lays her Mac is her home). She loves rugby, white wine, avocados and 80s high-school movies (although not necessarily all at once). Days of Miracle and Wonder is her first short story.
Twitter: www.twitter.com/ellafairlie
Visit www.sunloungerstories.com to discover more about the authors and their story destinations.
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We Found Love
***
Ilana Fox
DESTINATION: The Future
London, England, February 14th 2014
It was a grey, stormy day when the first explosion erupted. At first there was only silence: a stunned pause where everyone drew in a sharp, bitter gasp. Those in their offices raced to their windows to watch a ribbon of thick black smoke twist into the sky. Others – tourists who’d been battling the rain as they’d walked along Oxford Street, Londoners who’d been looking for last-minute Valentine’s Day presents – stood still and allowed themselves to make eye contact with strangers. Had there really been a bang? Or had they imagined it? Could they have done?
The heartbreaking answer came when another explosion rang out…and then another…and then another. Within what seemed like seconds, hundreds of airplanes cleaved through the clouds and crowded the skies, and with them came the bombs: bombs that ripped through the arteries of London and destroyed buildings within an instant. Tower Bridge collapsed and drowned in the Thames, St Paul’s Cathedral caught alight and rained fire onto the people below, and as the air filled with an acidic, pungent smoke, people began to flee.
What nobody knew was that there was nowhere to run to. Mile by mile, the whole city was being systematically destroyed. Tower blocks fell, houses were crushed and the pavements were stained with sadness.
Everywhere the girl turned she could see the twisted carcasses of skyscrapers and the burnt remains of what had once lived. Her own face was streaked with dirt and tears, and even though she didn’t know how to escape the city, she knew she had to try.
As the airplanes above rained bombs onto the city she loved, Katie did the only thing she could: she ran.
New Havana, Cuba, June 2075
Harper stood in front of the antique mirror and held the wedding dress up to the light. It was the fourth day she’d spent at her late grandmother’s apartment on the Malecón; the fourth sad, exhausting day of sorting through her grandmother Katie’s belongings. Harper had already boxed up the living room and kitchen, and now only the bedroom remained. Harper had been dreading it, for it was the bedroom that held the very essence of her mamina: it was in here that Katie had kept her most personal possessions – her jewellery, her clothing and the paper letters and diaries that she’d written over the course of her bright, colourful life.
Harper tried to ignore the pang of missing her grandmother and instead examined the wedding gown more closely. The silk had thinned and faded with age, and some of the tiny hand-sewn crystals and pearls were missing from the bodice, but the organza skirt still managed to dance in the hot, summer breeze that swept
in from the open window.
Harper had never seen a wedding dress outside of a museum – people had stopped marrying decades earlier – and although the style of the dress was old-fashioned, Harper thought that Katie’s gown was one of the most beautiful she’d ever seen. She wished she’d been able to see photographs of her grandparents’ wedding, but they’d all been destroyed by a computer virus that had wiped out all of her family’s digital memories long before she’d been born.
‘Aurora calling. State “yes” to take the call or remain silent to ignore it.’ The smooth voice of her grandmother’s digital assistant rang out in the apartment and Harper forced herself to swallow her sigh. She loved her mother, of course she did, but Aurora Bell was a cold, difficult woman – one so very different to both Harper and Katie – and Harper couldn’t quite forgive her for not flying into New Havana for Katie’s funeral. Instead, Aurora had appeared as a perfectly airbrushed hologram, clutching at a black lace handkerchief that would have been ineffective at mopping up tears.
‘Yes,’ Harper said wearily in response to the digital assistant. She sat down on the soft double bed and forced herself to smile as her mother’s high-definition hologram appeared.
‘Darling,’ Aurora declared loudly. ‘How are you getting on?’
Harper looked around the bedroom. She wanted to be able to put on a breezy voice, to say that everything was great, but it would have been untrue. ‘OK,’ she said lightly. ‘I should be finished by tomorrow.’
SUNLOUNGER 2: Beach Read Bliss (Sunlounger Stories) Page 24