Sam Harris Adventure Box Set

by P J Skinner

‘Please don’t die, Sam. Please.’

  He wept uncontrollably, his head buried in the sheets. He stayed like that for a few minutes until the storm passed. His reaction had shocked him. From where had this surge of emotion come? It was real.

  Suddenly, he felt a touch on his fingers like a mouse had run across his hand. He was startled to see Sam with the slightest smile on her lips. She said something in a hoarse voice.

  ‘I didn’t hear you. Say it again,’ said Fergus.

  ‘Shorts,’ said Sam.

  Chapter XVI

  Sam did not die, but her recovery took a long time. She lay in her bed sweating, tossing and turning, while her body fought the malaria. Fergus and Fatimata took turns watching her and feeding her. Fatimata kept her clean and changed her linen once day. She treated Sam like a new born. Fatimata stripped and made the bed with the help of Fergus who lifted Sam in the air.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Fergus. It’s much easier,’ said Fatimata.

  ‘She’s so thin,’ he said. ‘It’s shocking.’

  ‘That’s the fever. We’ll make her fat when she is better. Like a good Fona girl.’

  ‘I hope so.’

  They both left the room, carrying the dirty sheets and various items of cutlery and some glasses to the kitchen.

  The door was only ajar for a minute, but Sam had a visitor. Dembo the parrot sidled into the room and climbed up the bedframe above Sam’s head where he preened himself. When this produced no reaction from Sam who was dozing between her clean sheets, he jumped down onto the pillow and pulled her hair with his beak. She opened her eyes.

  ‘Sam’s the boss,’ squawked Dembo.

  Her eyes opened wide.

  ‘Sam, Sam, Sam.’

  She laughed, almost gurgling.

  Fergus, who had returned to pick up the rest of the used things, stood in the doorway, open-mouthed in amazement.

  ‘Sam? Are you awake?’

  ‘Dembo,’ she said.

  ‘What is that animal doing in here?’ said Fatimata, stamping her foot in indignation. ‘Get him out now.’

  ‘You get him out. He bites.’

  Dembo had retreated to the frame of the bed and lifted his beak ready to strike.

  ‘He’s not doing any harm,’ said Fergus.

  ‘Dembo,’ said Sam.

  ‘My good Lord,’ said Fatimata. ‘She spoke. It’s a miracle. Get the doctor.’

  ***

  The doctor took the thermometer out of her mouth. He held it in the light of a sunbeam and smiled.

  ‘Her temperature’s going down. She’s not out of the woods yet, but she may pull through,’ he said.

  ‘Thank goodness for that. She was in such a state when we rescued her that I thought we were too late,’ said Fergus.

  ‘Me too,’ said the doctor. ‘She’s as tough as they come. Tell Fatimata to keep her hydrated and to call me if she gets worse.’ He zipped up his bag and sighed. ‘Can’t you chase the parrot out? It really shouldn’t be in here.’

  He gesticulated at Dembo who was sitting on the iron railing at the foot of Sam’s bed scratching the feathers on his head with a long claw. He preened himself in the spotlight of the physician’s glare. ‘Sam’s the boss,’ he said and went back to his grooming.

  ‘He’s vicious, doc. I’ve almost lost a finger several times. He doesn’t bother us,’ said Fergus, reaching out to touch his shiny back and having to leap backwards as Dembo lunged at him. ‘I can’t imagine when she taught him to say that, but it seems to cheer her up. I’m loath to remove him.’

  ‘Hmm, well, it’s irregular, but I don’t suppose it’ll do any harm. See you tomorrow.’

  ‘Thanks, doc.’

  Fatimata appeared at the door with a tray on which were balanced a jug of fresh lemonade and some glasses. ‘Would you like a glass of lemonade, doctor?’

  ‘That would be great. Perhaps out on the veranda?’

  Fatimata turned around with a swish of her dress and headed back down the passageway with her tray.

  ‘Do you have enough saline?’ said the doctor, following her out of the room.

  Fergus stood for a minute looking at Sam before he went to join them.

  ***

  Once the fever had reduced, Sam got steadily better. Soon she could sit up in bed leaning against the pillows. Too tired to talk much, she spent a lot of time dozing. Fatimata brought her nutritious soups and boiled eggs which she toyed with but couldn’t face eating. Most of her nutrition came from the drip. Fatimata came in to Sam’s room one morning and found her on the floor.

  ‘Sam, what are you doing?’

  ‘I need to wash. I tried to get up, but my legs don’t work. Please, Fatou, help me. I am filthy.’

  ‘I will help you, but you must get back into bed.’

  Fatimata produced a large tin bath from one of the sheds at the back of the property and, after washing out all the cobwebs and hairy inhabitants, she put it in Sam’s room. Fergus helped her to half-fill it with lukewarm water.

  ‘You must leave now,’ said Fatimata.

  When Fergus had reluctantly left the room, complaining he was ‘missing the best bit’, Fatimata helped Sam take off her T-shirt and underwear and lifted her off the bed into the tin bath. Sam leaned back in the water, an expression of bliss on her face.

  ‘Help me stand, Fatou,’ she said. She stood on wobbly legs with Fatimata hovering while she soaped her whole body. ‘I’m ready to sit down again,’ she said. Fatimata took her arm and lowered her back down into the bath.

  Dembo, who had been observing these manoeuvres with interest, tried to climb up onto on the edge of the bath, but fell to the floor which made her giggle. His dignity in tatters, he shuffled off to his usual perch on the end of the bed.

  ‘Put your head back,’ said Fatimata and she poured water through Sam’s filthy hair. She put a dollop of shampoo on her hands and massaged it into Sam’s head.

  ‘You’ve still got paint in your hair,’ she said.

  ‘I haven’t thanked you,’ said Sam. ‘For saving my life. I’m so sorry I misjudged you.’

  ‘I’m the one who was judging. It’s my fault you nearly died. I’ll never forgive myself.’

  ‘Please don’t say that. Fergus told me you saved the whole village from the rebels. You are a heroine.’

  ‘Did he tell you what happened?’

  ‘Not exactly, but if you want to tell me, I’d love to hear about it.’

  ‘I will tell you the story when you are better. Let’s get you back into bed.’

  ***

  ‘Where is Ned?’ said Sam.

  She was feeling much better. Well enough to have visitors.

  ‘What’s wrong with me?’ said Fergus, who had brought her some fresh coconut water. ‘I’m here, aren’t I?’

  ‘If you don’t know by now, I’m not sure I can help.’

  ‘How can you be so mean when I haven’t left your side for days?’

  ‘I thought that was pretty mean.’

  ‘You’ve cut me to the quick.’

  ‘I’m sure you are. Can you answer my question now?’

  ‘Ned’s in Njahili with Alex.’

  ‘When will he be back?’

  ‘Um, I’m not sure he will be. His wife is also there.’

  ‘Gemma? But I thought they were getting divorced.’

  ‘There’s been a hitch.’

  ‘What sort of hitch?’

  ‘I’m afraid it’s the big sort. Gemma’s pregnant. And Ned’s the father.’

  ‘Oh. I see. Or rather, I don’t. I thought he’d left her.’

  ‘Yes, he has, had, but they met in London before he came out to Simbako and they had break up sex.’

  ‘Break up sex?’ Sam was crushed.

  ‘I’m sorry. I had no idea. He’s an idiot.’

  ‘Can you go now please? I need to be alone. I’m tired.’

  ‘Sam.’

  ‘No, just go. Ple
ase.’

  She couldn’t even cry. It was like she had a hole in her chest full of misery. So much for her dreams. She had fantasised about Ned taking her in his arms and making love to her ever since that first night in the bar. He had been leading her up the garden path and with a pregnant wife in tow. She was the idiot.

  Sam did not have time to recover from the news about Ned. Rumours of her recovery had spread and, a few hours later, she received a visit from Adanna.

  ‘Are you better?’ said Adanna. ‘We were so worried about you. My father is distressed. He blames himself.’

  ‘Why on earth does he do that?’

  ‘You gave him your repellent in the airport.’

  ‘I’d forgotten about that. But I had more repellent in my luggage so tell him not to blame himself. I’m fine now.’

  ‘Thank goodness. Fatimata told me that you were dying.’

  ‘Reports of my death are greatly exaggerated.’

  ‘I can see that. You are too thin. I hope she’s feeding you.’

  ‘If she could fatten me up like a foie grass goose using a funnel down my neck, she’d be ecstatic.’

  ‘She's overcompensating for trying to kill you with voodoo.’

  ‘It nearly worked. I was lucky.’

  ‘You look sad though. Is something wrong?’

  ‘Ned has gone to Njahili to be with his wife.’

  ‘Ned? I didn’t realise that you liked him. I thought ...’

  ‘What? Tell me.’

  ‘I thought Fergus was more your sort of man. He’s handsome and funny. And he really likes you.’

  ‘Oh, God, no. How can you even say that? He doesn’t like me.’

  ‘Forgive me, but according to Fatimata, he sat beside your bed for days willing you to live. He hardly ate or slept.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. I don’t remember that. How ...?’ But suddenly she did. She remembered his voice in her ear asking her not to die. She blushed to the roots of her hair.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ said Adanna. ‘Is it the malaria? Shall I call Fatou?’

  ‘No, don’t call her. I’m fine. Shocked. Don’t tell him that I know.’

  ‘Now why would I do that?’

  ‘Thank you. It’s a lot to take in right now.’

  ‘When will you be able to get up?’

  ‘The doctor tells me I can sit on the veranda or lie in the hammock from tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Tamba will be pleased. Fatimata isn’t the only person who’s been feeling guilty.’

  ‘Will he come and see me? I’d like to talk to him.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll tell him. I’ve got to go now, but I’ll be back soon.’

  ***

  Fatimata brought Sam some fresh mangoes which she had cut and peeled fresh from the tree. The first of the season, they were small and sweet, with an addictive odour. Dembo had to be shut in his cage with his own supply of fruit to prevent him inflicting sharp pecks with his beak when he didn’t agree with his share of the spoils.

  ‘My favourite,’ said Sam. ‘Thank you, Fatou. I love mangoes.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  Fatimata pulled an old armchair up to the bed and sat down.

  ‘I will tell you about the rebels now,’ she said.

  Sam was surprised, but she tried not to show it, making a show of rearranging her pillows so she could sit up in the bed facing Fatimata, whose face showed her conflicting emotions.

  ‘I am listening, auntie,’ she said.

  Her colloquial term for respected local woman had the required effect. Fatou’s face lit up.

  ‘The Chief came to see me when the rebels were planning to pass through Fona. I shared a small house in Fona with my sisters. I was a sowei despite being young for the honour. He told me the rebels were coming and he asked me to make them a stew.’

  ‘A stew? I don’t understand.’

  ‘He wanted me to put poison in it.’

  ‘Poison?’

  ‘We couldn’t fight back any other way. The rebels were looking for diamonds and they were ruthless. They killed everyone in their path.’

  ‘What about the Simbako army?’

  ‘They were defending the capital. We were alone.’

  ‘But how did you know about poisons?’

  ‘My father was a witch doctor. He taught me about many herbs and potions.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘I agreed to help the Chief in return for this house. By killing the soldiers, I broke a sacred rule meaning that I’m now unclean and may not attend the ceremonies at the bondo.’

  ‘But you rescued me there.’

  ‘You may thank Dembo for that.’

  ‘Dembo? What’s he got to do with it?’

  ‘I was prepared to let you die. I could not defy our culture without a sign from the gods. Fergus tried to make me go, but I refused. Then the fan fell down and Dembo told me that you were the boss.’

  Sam blushed. ‘What? I can’t believe it.’

  ‘Everything happens for a reason.’

  ‘But what happened when the rebels came?’

  ‘Chief Sesay waited alone for them in the ceremonial hall. He intended to delay them long enough for the poison to work.’

  ‘Wow, he must be so brave.’

  ‘It’s a pity you didn’t know him then. He was so tall and strong and handsome. A real leader.’

  ‘So why is he in a wheelchair?’

  ‘Has no one told you? They tortured him and left him for dead. The feast distracted them and they failed to confirm that he was dead. The stew poisoned them and he survived. Just.’

  ‘Bastards. Serves them right. Where did you bury them?’

  ‘Somewhere they won’t be found.’

  Fatimata stood up. She had an expression on her face Sam recognised. No more information will be forthcoming.

  When Fatimata had gone, Sam sat in bed and tried to digest the day’s events. The fortitude shown by Joseph Sesay amazed her. The rebels had broken his body, but not his spirit. A true hero. Without him, the village would have been burned to the ground. She had seen some of those ghost villages on her way to Fona. Blackened walls and trees standing testament to the savagery. Listless people sitting on the side of the road, their faces blank with suffering.

  The news about Ned was a body blow though. All of her fond imagining was shown to be just wishful thinking. Had he lied to her? It was unlikely. They were both looking for a distraction after their partners had dumped them. Perhaps it wasn’t real at all. Oddly, she was struggling to remember what he looked like. That must be the malaria.

  In fact, whenever she wanted to daydream about Ned, Fergus intruded on her thoughts. Big, blonde and handsome, like a human lion, no wonder he was distracting. Ned didn’t have that animal magnetism, but he was nice. Fergus was not nice. He had dismissed her out of hand when she arrived. The only time he noticed her was when she wore Hannah’s shorts. But now that had been turned on its head. She remembered all too clearly. He had cried for her. She couldn’t un-hear it. He may even have saved her. Please don’t die. Was it even her he was crying for?

  ***

  ‘How’s Sam?’ said Alex.

  ‘She’ll live. She wants to get back to work.’

  ‘Is that going to be possible?’

  ‘I don’t see why not. She’s asking to start already.’

  ‘Let’s see how she progresses. Can you get the pitting going again? I’d like to be sure that we are digging in the right place.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll speak to Tamba to see if we can restart operations. How’s Ned?’

  ‘Shell-shocked to be honest. Neither of them has taken this in yet. Gemma vomits a lot and Ned stands around looking helpless.’

  ‘Will they stay together?’

  ‘No idea. I’ll tell him you were asking after him.’

  ‘You do that. I’ll call you if we find anything.’

  ***

  Fergus d
rove up to the Chief’s compound and parked among the chickens who did their utmost to get run over. Tamba emerged from the house and waved.

  ‘Come in, come in,’ he said, gesticulating.

  Joseph Sesay was in the formal guest room, looking out of the window. He beamed with pleasure when Fergus came in.

  ‘Good morning, Fergus. How is our patient?’

  ‘Good morning, sir. She’s on the mend. I can’t keep her in the house much longer.’

  ‘That’s great news. We’ve been so worried about her, especially Adanna.’

  ‘That’s why I’m here – about Sam. We’d like to start work on the terrace again, as soon as possible.’

  ‘Tamba can start tomorrow, if that is not too soon. But don’t you need a geologist on site?’

  ‘She has taught me a lot about sampling, so I can carry on with it and just show her the results when she is better,’ said Tamba.

  ‘Okay, we agree. I’ll work with Tamba until Sam is ready to start again,’ said Fergus. ‘If we turn up any surprises, we can show her what we find.’

  Tamba winced, but he said nothing. Fergus noticed the tiny movement, but ignored it. Tamba was difficult to fathom at the best of times, but he had been a lot more cooperative since working with Sam.

  ‘Let me know how it goes,’ said the Chief.

  Chapter XVII

  As Sam recovered, she became frustrated that Fergus had taken over her work on the terrace. This gave her all the incentive she needed to get better as fast as possible. She ate everything Fatimata prepared for her, especially fried food. Batter-covered sweet plantains were her favourite. She was regaining some weight and growing stronger every day.

  One morning, she heard Fergus in the hall and called out to him. He came in and sat on her bed, instead of the chair beside it, and the unexpected closeness of his body radiating health and warmth caused her to blush bright red.

  ‘You okay? You’re flushed,’ he said.

  ‘It’s the malaria.’

  ‘Aren’t you getting better?’

  ‘Much better. I should go back to work soon.’

  ‘Work? Oh, I’m not sure. Maybe we should ask the doctor.’

  ‘I’m sure he won’t object. Perhaps you could ask Tamba and his men to build me a shelter with a chair on the terrace? Then I would come for short bursts until I’m stronger.’