Drowning

by Jassy Mackenzie

  CHAPTER 18

  It was fully dark by the time we got up. We dressed by the light of a gas lamp, and Nicholas shone a flashlight out of the doorway, helping me down the steep ladder-like staircase and back to the car. We drove back to the lodge in companionable silence, going slowly, with the window half open and the orchestra of night sounds filtering into the car.

  “Let’s see what Miriam left for us,” Nicholas said, slamming the car door and waiting for me to get out before we headed through to the kitchen. “I don’t know about you, Erin, but I’m absolutely starving. And it’s all your fault.” He shot me an unapologetic grin.

  The clock on the wall told me it was eight-thirty p.m. and I realized I too was famished.

  “We’re in luck,” he announced from behind the open refrigerator door. “There’s a venison pie here, and coleslaw. Do you want a glass of wine?”

  A few minutes later we’d assembled our meal at the kitchen table and placed the pie in the oven to heat up. We sat at the table and I downed a full glass of water in a few gulps, realizing I was as thirsty as I was hungry. Nicholas refilled it, and I drank the next one more slowly before starting on my wine.

  Nicholas checked his phone, which he’d left in the truck for the day, and listened to his messages. While he was doing that, I took the opportunity to check mine.

  Vince had called three times and left no messages. Still, three phone calls was a lot for a man whose most recent words to me had been that he wanted a trial separation. I could only pray he’d reconsidered. I would call him first thing tomorrow, I decided.

  Nicholas disconnected and put his phone away.

  “They’ve repaired the dam,” he told me. “Joshua says that by the day after tomorrow the new temporary bridge will definitely be passable for pedestrians, possibly even for vehicles. And the police called to say they’re wrapping up the search and rescue operation tomorrow—the one they were using my helicopter to help with. They’ve been able to restore the community’s access to the outside world and transport the survivors safely to hospital.”

  “I’m so relieved to hear that.”

  The kitchen was filling with the delicious aroma of warming gravy and crisping pastry. Nicholas took the pie out of the oven and cut us each an enormous slice, while I heaped coleslaw onto the plates. This, then, was the second to last night I would ever spend in his company, conversing with him, making love, eating the food carefully prepared by knowledgeable staff.

  “I can’t thank you enough for everything,” I said.

  He frowned at me, genuinely puzzled. “For what?”

  “For putting me up here—hell, for putting up with me here.” I laughed, and he gave a rather reluctant smile. “For making this time so special. Oh, and not least, for saving my life.”

  He didn’t look pleased at that, but instead gave a small shrug and began eating.

  I felt there was more to be said about what we’d discussed earlier that afternoon, and now seemed like a good time for me to broach a sensitive topic.

  “Thank you for telling me about your home life when you were younger,” I said. “It’s helped me understand you better.

  “I’m glad it has.”

  It was true. Knowing that Nicholas came from an abusive background had helped me figure out a lot about him. His decision to become a paramedic, to help other people in need. His desire to protect people and animals in his care. His need to safely channel his own anger into intense physical exertion.

  “Can I ask you something else?”

  “Of course you can.” He sounded wary, though.

  “What was he like? Your dad, I mean. What made him do what he did?”

  Nicholas took a long time to think about his answer.

  “If you’d met him on the street or in the boardroom you’d never have known the real person,” he said. “He was a well-educated man, and he could be very charming. Deep down, though, he was a bastard. A cold-hearted bastard with a terrible temper. He had no conscience, either in business or at home. He was psychopathic, I think, although he hid it well.”

  “I’d imagined him as—as somehow being less educated.”

  Nicholas’ grim head-shake told me how wrong I was. “It’s not only uneducated people who are abusive. Although it made it worse, in a way, that he wasn’t just some dumb redneck who’d drink his salary every week and then come home and cause hell. My father was a highly qualified man and he became a billionaire through his own cunning, even though I did not approve of his methods.”

  “What did he do?” I asked.

  Nicholas piled a second helping onto both our plates and refilled our wineglasses.

  “My father made his money by loaning capital to struggling companies, buying a controlling interest in them, and basically raping them with crippling interest rates and payback terms for as many years as he could. They often ended up going under after he’d made a massive profit. If they survived, he’d sell them to their competitors.”

  “That’s so destructive!”

  He nodded. “He toasted their suffering with Tanqueray. And my mother just wouldn’t leave him, Erin. She was too damned traditional, or loyal, for her own good. No matter how hard I tried to persuade her, no matter how many times he threatened her with divorce, she would not walk out of that marriage.”

  I stared at Nicholas, and saw sadness in his eyes. I understood now his preference for no-strings-attached relationships.

  “Are they still married?”

  “They’re both dead,” Nicholas replied baldly. “My mother died first. Until her death, my father continued to beat and abuse her, so to escape her situation, she began drinking heavily. That habit started while I was still at boarding school. In the end, she passed away from liver cancer.”

  I shook my head. I didn’t know what to say to that. We continued eating in silence, and I felt a heavy depression descending on me. I felt as if I was only just beginning to know the truth of this man—now, too late, when I was about to leave. Nicholas de Lanoy was no longer the womanizing rogue I’d thought him to be when we first met. I now understood he was a far more complicated human being, a loner, a man who had been afraid to put down roots. Nicholas was a courageous person who had fought his own personal battles and still, from time to time, was forced to conquer his inner demons.

  With a sense of unreality, I realized that, fundamentally, Nicholas was far more like me than I’d first presumed.

  Our meal finished, he reached across the table and took my hand.

  “Will you spend the night with me, Erin?”

  It was odd how that single, simple request captured my emotions. After all, it might be the only remaining chance to be with him.

  “Of course I will.”

  “Come on, then.”

  We took a long shower together, kissing deeply under the steaming cascade of water and soaping each other’s bodies before stepping out into the embrace of his enormous fluffy towels. A few minutes later, we were in bed, with music playing softly in the background and a box of Ferrero Rocher chocolates on the pillow between us. We each had a book in our hand, but interrupted our reading from time to time to speak about whatever topics came to mind. My legs were draped over Nicholas’s, and he was stroking my thighs lightly with his fingers while he read.

  “I could get used to doing this,” he remarked. “Erin, I don’t think I’m going to be able to let you go. Bridge or no bridge, you’re going to have to stay with me.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” I said, keeping my voice deliberately light.

  “It’s more than that.”

  “Do you…?” I asked, looking up from my book, and then suddenly wished I hadn’t broached such a personal subject.

  “Do I what?”

  “Do you do this with all your lovers?”

  “What, this? Like we are now?”

  “Yes.”

  “No,” he said shortly. And then, as if trying to explain himself, “I’ve had quite an isolated life so
far, Erin, in terms of personal relationships at least. Partly due to my family life growing up, and partly due to my choice of career.”

  “Tell me about your career,” I said, suddenly needing to know about this piece in the puzzle of Nicholas’ past.

  “I trained as a paramedic when I’d finished school. My father wanted me to go to university but instead I joined the army, and later worked for other organizations, doing assignments in high risk areas and war zones.”

  “Oh.” I nodded, understanding his loner lifestyle.

  “I’ve made good money, more than enough to live comfortably, although you couldn’t ever compare my earnings to my father’s rotten billions. But then, three years ago, he died, and I found he’d left every penny of his inheritance to me. I never expected it. I was working up in Libya at the time. I came home and found myself the owner of a fortune I didn’t want.”

  “What about your brother?”

  Nicholas’s lips tightened. “My father wasn’t the only vicious bastard in our family. My brother grew up worse than him. He’s in prison now, serving a life sentence. And trust me, you don’t want to know what it’s for.”

  “You’re right, I don’t.” I said, feeling suddenly cold.

  “My immediate family members are, or were, a violent psychopath, an alcoholic, and a cold-blooded criminal. I might have managed to escape those flawed genes by some miracle, but I am certainly not risking passing them on. Not ever. The de Lanoy family name will die with me. I will never have children of my own—and I consider that my service to humanity.”

  His voice was as hard as his face. I did not doubt the sincerity of his words. For a moment I reflected on the strange coincidence that he did not want children while I could not have them.

  Perhaps, in another lifetime… if fate had brought us together… but that was seductive thinking and I must not pursue it. It was hard enough for me to cope with the painful reality that, one day, some other woman—I now realized, some extremely lucky woman—would be Nicholas’s life partner when he was finally ready to settle down.

  Choosing a safer line of questioning, I asked, “Did you buy this place when you inherited your father’s money?”

  “Yes. I needed somewhere to live and this was on the market, complete with all its furnishings and fittings as well as its staff. I thought it would be a good place to stay while I decided what to do with the inheritance.”

  “And what did you do?”

  “At first I wanted to give all of it away—I believed it was blood money, earned through destructive means. But after some consideration, I decided instead to put it to better use.”

  “What use?”

  “I have put the entire capital sum in a high yield portfolio. Then the interest—which is about a quarter of a billion each year—I’ve been using to start up and grow businesses that make a difference. I’ve invested in ventures that help people to help others, and teach people skills. I want to try to make up for what my father destroyed. I didn’t know much about business and still don’t, but I’ve taken some good advice from experts, and hired a financial manager who knows what he’s doing, and so far most of the projects I’ve supported have shown growth. At worst, they’ve enabled people to earn a good living and become self-sufficient, and that makes me feel better about keeping the inheritance.”

  “That’s awesome,” I said, and he smiled.

  “I’m glad you think so.” He stroked my face tenderly before returning his attention to his book.

  Let me not be clingy or tearful when the time comes, I caught my breath. Let me be able to turn my back on this beautiful man and see this love affair for what it is.

  After all, what was it, really? A week of sinful pleasure that served to teach me that my moral standards were nowhere near as high as I had believed them to be.

  And, please, let me not end up falling in love with him, I prayed, although I feared my prayers were already too late.

  Much later I woke, disoriented, from a deep slumber. Tangled in the residue of forgotten dreams, I took a moment to remember where I was. In Nicholas’s bed—but after making love and falling asleep in his arms, I now sensed that I was alone.

  A quick exploration with my left hand confirmed the fact that the other side of the bed was empty, the sheets cool, the covers rumpled.

  Puzzled, and now awake, I sat up, wondering where Nicholas had gone. Straining my ears, I thought I could hear the low murmur of his voice. For some reason, thinking of him having a whispered, night time conversation sent a chill of unease through me. Was something wrong?

  Slipping on the silk robe I’d found in the bathroom, I padded out of the room to see if I could find him.

  The sound of his voice became clearer as I walked softly down the passage. Before I rounded the corner I could make out what he was saying.

  “That’s fine. I’ll be out there in twenty minutes.” He paused. “No, I can’t make it sooner. I’ll need another spotter, and I will have to call my…”

  He broke off as I walked round the corner.

  “Okay. See you then,” he finished abruptly.

  “Hey,” I said softly. “Is anything wrong?”

  “Yes.” He moved over to me, put an arm around me, kissed me. “I didn’t want to disturb you, but I’m going to have to go out now.”

  “Out? Where? And why?”

  “A gang of poachers just tried to kill one of the white rhino in Kruger Park. There was a shoot-out and they fled on foot, in the direction of our boundary fence. I’m going to call Joshua now, and we’re going to go out and see if we can spot them. The rangers can’t use their vehicles because of the flooding on that side, so it’s important we get there fast.”

  I thought about this for a moment.

  “You said if you call Joshua, there will be a delay.”

  “Yes. His house is on the other side of the estate, about ten minutes’ drive from here.”

  “Well, take me along, then,” I said, with more bravado than I felt. “Ready in two minutes, and then we’ll bag these guys.”

  Nicholas gave me a reluctant smile. “Sorry, Erin, I’m not exposing you to this danger.”

  “Why not?”

  “It could get violent. The gang is armed. You’ll be safe here with all the doors locked.”

  “Hey, I’m already living on borrowed time. I’d be dead now if it wasn’t for you.”

  Striding back toward the bedroom, he gave me another tight smile, “Even so, I can’t let you come along, and that’s the end of it.”

  “You can’t stop me,” I retorted. “And that’s the truth of it. Remember, I’ve got a good eye for seeing things in the bush. Your words, Nicholas!”

  “It’s going to be too dangerous,” he insisted.

  “I’m a photographer. I’ve taken footage of violent urban riots, and forest fires, and natural disasters. Danger is part of my job. I might not have my camera with me, but if I did, I’d be coming with you and bringing it along.”

  I turned on the light and pulled on my clothes. I slipped my feet into my too-big borrowed sandals, and I was ready to go before Nicholas had fastened his own combat boots.

  He stared at me with a blend of frustration and admiration. Raising my chin, I stared back at him, trying as hard as I could to give the impression of a tough woman who knew exactly what she was doing.

  “All right,” he said. “Let’s get moving.”

  He took his Remington out of the safe in his bedroom. As we hurried out to the garage, he got on the phone to Joshua and told him to drive up to the boundary as soon as he could. Then we bundled ourselves into the truck and set off into the moonless night.

  “I’ve got a spotlight here which I’ll use if I need to,” Nicholas told me in a quiet voice. “For now, though, you just need to try and get your eyes accustomed to how the bush looks at night. These poachers will keep still when they see our headlights. It won’t be easy to pick them out because they’ll be wearing neutral colors, to blend with their surro
undings.”

  “No worries. We’ll spot ’em.” I could hear the nervousness in my own voice. It wasn’t only the fact that this was a potentially dangerous situation—it was also that I really did not want to let Nicholas down. He’d trusted me enough to bring me with him—and now I needed to prove myself to him.

  “Scout for loose wires in case they’ve broken through to this side,” he said. “Probably, though, they’ll be hiding out near the boundary on the Kruger Park side, waiting for another chance to go back in and track the rhino. So we’ll go through the gate and start hunting on that side of the fence.”

  Oh, boy. And there I was thinking we’d be staying safely on our side of the fence and peering through. My stomach twisted. I took a deep breath and tried to think of the rhino, the magnificent animals whose lives would be saved.

  The portable radio crackled and Nicholas answered it, communicating with the rangers who were on their way, and were to be backed up by a helicopter from the South African police service.

  “Looks like there’ll be a lot of backup arriving soon,” he reassured me, putting down the radio speaker and shifting to low gear to accelerate up a hill. The Land Cruiser rocked and swayed as it hurtled along the dark tracks. Branches scraped the sides of the car and every so often I heard a loud popping noise as a stone flew out from under the tires. Once, I saw a flurry of retreating backsides as a herd of impala ran to escape the noisy threat of our vehicle, and I also noticed the pale fluttering of wings as a large bird—an owl, perhaps—took off from a nearby tree.

  “Let’s hope the backup arrives in time,” I said nervously.

  “Let’s hope it does.”

  Nicholas skidded to a stop at the gate and dragged it open before driving through. He then got out and padlocked it firmly behind him again. No poacher would be sneaking through this entrance to prey on his beloved black rhino.

  “We’ll start south,” he said, climbing back in the truck. “The poachers would have been coming from that side of the park, according to what the rangers said. With some luck, we’ll intercept them.”