A Holiday to Die For

by Marion Leigh

  ‘I’m overjoyed to hear our schedule isn’t as inflexible as Sandrine’s.’

  ‘It’s actually a better plan than mine was. Getting to Windhoek on Friday to catch our flight should be faster. How did you do?’

  ‘No luck around the campsite. I didn’t check out all the chalet areas.’ Petra pointed to the stream of people walking away from the camp. ‘Where’s everyone going?’

  ‘To the waterhole, to see who comes to drink at sundown.’

  ‘Of course! Let’s go. We might miss the black rhino.’

  A steep stony path led to an overlook where dozens of avid game viewers sat perched on dusty benches or on huge boulders beneath a wooden canopy. Petra and Carlo stood silently at the back until a bench became available. A line of springbok trooped away from the water. An elephant finished his evening drink, trumpeted and went on his way. There was no sign of the rhino.

  As the temperature dropped, people began to leave. Petra put on her sweatshirt. Carlo nudged her elbow and made a beckoning motion. She shook her head.

  ‘Be patient,’ she whispered. ‘It’s just like a stake-out.’

  ‘I hate stake-outs.’

  A head turned. ‘Sssh.’

  At the waterhole and under the canopy nothing moved. Darkness fell alleviated only by a few subtle lights. Carlo’s eyes began to close.

  ‘There he is!’ Petra’s finger shook as she pointed towards a lumbering barrel shape with two horns emerging from the trees.

  Carlo grabbed his camera.

  ‘Bonzer!’ an Aussie drawled.

  The rhino approached along a well-worn path. He drank then paused to listen, drank again, listened again and so on until he departed, his thirst slaked.

  Carlo nudged Petra’s elbow again. ‘Time for dinner.’

  They half slid down the dimly lit path. Back on the flat, Carlo asked: ‘What do you fancy – apart from Florian – pork ’n beans out of a can, or whatever’s on offer at the restaurant?’

  ‘I’ll take the latter, and for the record, I don’t fancy Florian.’

  ‘But he fancies you. I’m sure he’s dying to see you again before we leave.’

  Petra felt her face flush. ‘Do you know something I don’t, Mercutio? Is Florian going to be in Stellenbosch at the weekend?’

  ‘I know lots of things you don’t, but not that. Neither Uncle Tony nor Sandrine mentioned goldilocks.’

  Carlo looked at the blackboard outside the restaurant. ‘It’s ostrich steak with rice and peas, followed by peach ice cream.’

  ‘Not bad. Ostrich meat is good for you: it’s cholesterol and fat free …’

  ‘And can be as tough as old boots.’

  ‘Bonzer camper, mate,’ said the Aussie they had seen at the waterhole as they stood in line for the ostrich.

  ‘Isn’t Lucy wicked? Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds,’ Petra explained.

  ‘Gottcha! Can’t miss ya in that! Which way ya headin’ tomorra?’

  ‘Up at sparras, mate, to see the sun over the pan …’ Carlo answered.

  ‘Then we’ll play it by ear,’ Petra cut in. ‘No fixed itinerary, that’s us.’ She tugged at the back of Carlo’s shirt as he picked up his tray and started to carry it outside.

  ‘Let’s stay in here.’ She pointed to a table at the back of the room.

  ‘Fine, but why are you so jumpy all of a sudden?’

  ‘I don’t like personal questions. And the ranger at Sesriem said Father Joe, a.k.a. John, was supposed to be here today. I don’t want to see him or him to see us.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because I want to make sure Vicky Dunlin is safe first.’

  ‘That’s illogical.’

  ‘Not to me.’

  Carlo poked at his ostrich. ‘This might be OK.’

  ‘Here’s your friend.’

  The regal ranger with braided hair sashayed up to their table, nodded to Petra, and bestowed a lingering look on Carlo. Who responded by batting his eyelashes exactly as Petra anticipated.

  She kicked him under the table. ‘You look like Florian,’ she muttered.

  The ranger broke into laughter. ‘Master Florian: you know him?’

  ‘Yes. Is he here?’ Petra asked, trying to sound casual.

  ‘He was. Left yesterday with a busload of women.’

  ‘Do you know where they’ve gone?’

  The ranger shrugged. ‘I’m given orders, not information.’

  Like me, Petra thought. ‘Was Mohawk with them, the guy with the limp?’

  ‘Henny? He left on his own early this morning. He gets his R & R in Port Nolloth.’

  ‘What about Father Joe – black robe, wild hair?’

  ‘Joe, John, Jono – he wows the ladies too. Haven’t seen him in a while.’

  ‘I thought he was due here today.’

  The ranger put her hands on her hips. ‘You sweet on these guys? Want to join their bus tours? They’d give you a ride any time, I bet.’

  She gave Carlo a wide white-toothed smile. ‘Let me tell you the best places to see tomorrow morning. Quickest route to the pan is left out of the gate, then right when you get to the main road. The lookout is clearly signposted. On the way back here for breakfast, you can take in three waterholes: Nuamses, Goas and Noniams.’

  ‘Breakfast? I didn’t plan on that,’ Carlo said.

  ‘You’ll be famished by nine o’clock. A hot breakfast’ll set you up for the rest of the day. I have a couple of vouchers for you.’

  ‘That sounds good, Carlo.’

  ‘You see, someone has sense! Come back through Helio Hills. After breakfast, take Rhino Drive and Eland Drive to Springbokfontein and Batia. There’ve been great sightings of a lioness with two cubs this week, about halfway along Eland Drive.’

  ‘We haven’t seen any lions yet,’ Petra said.

  ‘Do as I say and you will.’

  Chapter

  60

  The road to the lookout ran for three kilometres straight out into the pan. According to Carlo, the rains had not been particularly plentiful so the flamingos had not come to nest. The sun gained height swiftly, bathing the silvery sea of sand in rosy hues. Cloven hoof tracks in single file showed where antelopes had come and gone.

  The first waterhole was very deep. Carlo took a few pictures of the perimeter and the tall reeds in the centre. Petra didn’t bother. The only wildlife was a pair of Egyptian geese.

  They backtracked for several kilometres and turned left at the signpost for Goas and Noniams. There was no sign of the kombi. The Goas waterhole was large, flat and open. A herd of elephants with several calves was drinking, much to Petra’s delight. She was also able to add hartebeest to her list of antelopes once she had properly identified the red-brown creature with the sloping back. Carlo drove to the other side of the waterhole to photograph a long-legged kori bustard stalking through the grass.

  Noniams returned a zero, but they stopped again at Goas. The elephants had disappeared.

  ‘They come and go so quickly,’ Petra said.

  ‘I learned a long time ago that you have to be really lucky to get good sightings. Patient too. Not my strong suit, but we can wait a few minutes if you like.’

  A white Toyota drove up, slowed, and continued on down the road. Next came a high clearance 4 x 4 driven by the Aussie who liked Lucy. He pulled over and gave them a thumbs-up. After a short time, he too left.

  Carlo switched on the engine. ‘Let’s go. There’s nothing happening,’

  ‘You’re wrong, Mercutio.’ Petra pointed to a family of three giraffes which appeared from behind a clump of mopane trees. They picked their way to the water.

  ‘See how they splay their legs and bends their knees to get low enough to drink! This is heaven, Carlo.’

  ‘Aren’t you hungry yet?’

  ‘N
o.’

  ‘Well I am. Let’s go.’

  By the time they had passed through the hills and stopped several times for Carlo to photograph the view, Petra had to admit that she was famished. Game viewing was almost as strenuous in its own way as being out in a boat on the water.

  Carlo’s exotic ranger came to their table on the terrace as soon as they sat down.

  ‘Order eggs how you like. Bacon, sausage and pastries are on the buffet. I’ll make sure you get fresh juice and plenty of coffee.’

  ‘What did I do to deserve such special treatment?’ Carlo asked her.

  ‘Not enough. Maybe next time.’

  Carlo watched as she sashayed away.

  Petra scowled.

  After the first few kilometres they were in new territory. The Rhino Drive was the southernmost road in the park and the farthest from the pan. The terrain was rougher and the trees stunted.

  ‘Not many vehicles going this way,’ Petra commented.

  ‘Right, and nobody following us. Once it gets hot, the animals tend to seek shade so a lot of people take a break and go out again after lunch.’

  ‘After that breakfast, we should be able to make it through to Namutoni,’ Petra said, patting her stomach. ‘I didn’t digest the information your ranger gave us until now, but I’m so mad that we missed Megan and Hilary, and Henny, their guide. Do you think Florian has taken them on his bus to Namutoni?’

  ‘How the hell would I know? And actually I don’t care. Look, there a wildebeest.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘A gnu, and four zebras.’

  The road became even more difficult to navigate and began to zigzag through desolate country. Carlo struggled with the steering wheel and put the van into low gear, muttering something about a 4 x 4.

  ‘Thirty-three kilometres of this,’ Petra remarked. ‘Is this where lions like to hang out?’

  ‘They usually hang out not too far from their next meal.’

  Half a dozen baboons scampered across the road in front of them.

  ‘There it is,’ she said.

  ‘They don’t like baboons, but if there’s nothing else they’ll eat them.’

  They jolted on through the barren landscape. At every turn, Petra was filled with new hope, but they didn’t see anyone or anything.

  ‘This wasn’t such a good idea, Carlo. I wish you hadn’t listened to that ranger.’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Well, we. Sorry …’ She let out a great sigh.

  ‘Is something the matter?’

  ‘I’ve got a headache and my stomach’s not feeling good.’

  ‘That’s the last thing we need. What happened to the iron cop?’

  ‘I think I’m going to be sick.’

  Carlo groaned. ‘Brilliant! We can’t get out of the car under any circumstances. It’s too dangerous.’

  ‘We haven’t seen any animals for ages.’

  ‘You don’t know what might be lurking. If you want to set yourself up as bait, go ahead. But I suggest that you just open the door and lean out if necessary, and be prepared to close it real fast.’

  ‘I’ll try and hang on. The map shows a picnic spot with toilets near Springbokfontein.’

  ‘Let me look.’ Carlo pulled the map onto the steering wheel. ‘OK, we’ll make for that. Close your eyes and take deep breaths.’

  ‘Yes, doctor.’

  It was impossible to go any faster along the still winding and rocky track. Finally they rounded a corner and Carlo was pleased to see a grassy plain in the distance. Petra’s eyes were closed and her hands were crossed over her stomach. Her face was ashen. He turned right at a T-junction. A little farther on, he spotted a sign to the picnic site.

  As he slowed to make the turn, he saw movement out of the corner of his left eye. Two enormous male lions were threading their way through an area of boulders and scrub. The compass on the dashboard of the van showed that they were heading north, in the direction of the pan.

  ‘There are your lions, Petra! Wow, they’re huge, and in fantastic shape.’

  The only response was a deep moan.

  ‘I’ll take you into the picnic site then I’ll go and get some pictures and come back for you. You don’t mind, do you?’

  Petra shook her head, keeping her eyes closed. ‘Fine. Just get me to the bathroom.’

  Carlo drew up in front of an electrified gate hung with high voltage warning signs. It must have been five metres high. A large notice announced that the gate was activated by pressing the red button on the right. The park accepted no liability for visitors to the site. To reach the red button, the driver of the vehicle had to get out. Carlo looked right, left and behind him.

  As quickly as he could, he pressed the button and jumped back into the van. The gate opened noisily and began to close as soon as he had driven through. He drove past the picnic tables, all of which were empty, and stopped right in front of the female toilets next to the only other vehicle, a white Toyota camper.

  Carlo leaped out and went to help Petra. ‘I’ll look after your bag.’

  ‘No, there are some things I might need in it.’

  He helped her up the steps and risked a peek through the doorway into the bathroom. ‘Two stalls, the one on the left is occupied, the other’s free. Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you?’

  ‘Quite sure. I’m not as bad as I was. I’ll wait outside for you.’

  When he got back to the road, Carlo couldn’t see the lions anywhere. He paused at the next T-junction as two cars went by, heading to the right, and decided to follow them. He slowed as he neared the Springbokfontein waterhole, hoping to pick up his quarry. The shallow depression held nothing more than a few ducks swimming in and out of the reeds. He banged his fist on the steering wheel.

  Petra’s map of the park fell to the floor. Carlo picked it up and smoothed out the centre pages. She was a great navigator, and it took him a minute to orient himself. There was another waterhole just two kilometres away.

  He turned onto the spur road. Keeping his eyes peeled, he rattled along. A mongoose flashed across the road in front of him. He braked hard as he saw a bunch of vehicles parked haphazardly on both sides of the road.

  The two lions had covered a lot of ground and were advancing steadily. Carlo squeezed the van in between two others, eliciting angry gestures from the occupants. He reached for his camera and lenses and began taking shots.

  Petra walked unsteadily across the bathroom and into the open stall. She pushed the door closed and looked for the hook to put into the eye to lock it. No hook. Never mind, she was beyond caring. She sat down and put her bag against the door even though the floor was dirty.

  She put her head in her hands and passed out.

  Chapter

  61

  The two lions had positioned themselves behind a rock a hundred and fifty metres from the waterhole. Carlo noticed the tracks and the churned mud around the edge that indicated that game had come and gone. For the time being, he could see only a family of warthogs scratching in the dirt on their knees. Mother suddenly stood up and smelled the air, followed by baby. Father paused and got to his feet. The three, baby in the middle, trotted off in single file into the bush, tails held high. Carlo captured the whole scene and waited to see what would happen next.

  The lions were as static as the rock that shielded them from view. Carlo laid his camera carefully on the seat beside him. The cars next to him pulled away. He knew he should go back to the picnic site for Petra, but something kept him glued to his seat.

  Overhead the sky was a brilliant cloudless blue. The air-conditioning struggled to keep the interior of the van cool. Carlo’s eyelids began to droop.

  When he opened them, the first thing he saw was a cheetah sidling towards the waterhole. The lions must have gone. He grabbed his camera and took sho
t after shot. Then he caught sight of the lions again. They got up, shook their manes and left.

  Over an hour had gone by before Carlo arrived back at the picnic site. Several of the picnic tables were occupied and he scanned them for Petra. If she was feeling better, she would be mad at the long wait but surely delighted with the footage.

  He parked the van and checked the tables again. No sign of her. If she was still in the bathroom, that wouldn’t be good news. He strode across to the toilet block and asked an older woman who was just coming out of the ladies if there was a young woman with long black hair inside. The woman gave a big shrug and shook her head.

  It seemed as though she hadn’t understood what he was saying, so he put his head round the door and looked in. Both toilet stalls were open and there was nobody at the single metal sink. He checked out the gents and drew a blank.

  Flummoxed, he began to walk around the site. He stopped at each of the occupied tables and asked if anyone had seen a tall, slim girl with long black hair and a pale complexion, wearing beige shorts and a khaki T-shirt. No one had.

  He climbed into the van and turned on the engine. The afternoon sun was relentless. A couple more cars came through the gate. There had been only one vehicle in the compound when he left Petra, and he hadn’t paid much attention to it. It was a white Toyota camper, that’s all he remembered. He leaned back in his seat and let the air-conditioning play over his face.

  A few minutes later, he sat up and reached for his camera bag. It was on the floor, where Petra’s feet should have been. That morning he had taken a full-length picture of her on the edge of the pan, proudly wearing her new khaki T-shirt stamped with African animals in black, white and gold. He scrolled back, found the picture and got out of the van.

  He canvassed all the picnickers, showing them the photo and asking again if anyone had seen her. Still no luck. He waited until the ladies’ bathroom was empty, went in and checked it thoroughly. He checked the gents, as well as a small white hut marked “Staff only” that was firmly padlocked. He banged on the door then walked round the back and stood on tiptoe to look through a barred window. The hut contained cleaning supplies and a plastic chair but was otherwise empty.