Sunstroke

by Madge Swindells

  ‘Don’t run away.’

  ‘Back there I wanted to die of embarrassment, Mr Moller. Bernie’s the limit. I was keen to get away, so thanks for rescuing me, but I’m here on business so let’s join the others.’

  He gave a mock bow. ‘The pleasure’s all mine. Isn’t that what you British say? Only in my case it’s sincere.’

  There was an implied criticism there, but I wasn’t feeling patriotic. I was far too busy trying to fend him off.

  ‘Bernie’s become Africanized,’ Moller went on, as we strolled towards the house. ‘In traditional African society an important man will commission a praise-singer, who’s called an imbongi, to walk ahead of him and publicize his wealth, his power, his good deeds and his health. Bernie is performing this service unasked and for free. One must consider what Bernie is getting out of it, Ms Ogilvie. Could it be your fund’s much publicized fifty billion that’s looking for a home?’

  I looked up suspiciously and saw the glimmer of mirth in Moller’s eyes. Then the sound of the dinner gongs came, muted and melodious, in snatches through the trees.

  ‘May I call you Nina? It’s a lovely name. Some say it’s Hebrew, in which case the literal translation is a young girl or a granddaughter, but the name really stems from early Babylonian, meaning “goddess of the deep waters”. You are well named, Nina.’

  What did he mean? ‘Are you Jewish?’

  He shook his head. ‘I speak Hebrew because I worked in Jerusalem for a while.’

  I pondered over this unusual man as we walked back in silence. You’re far too smooth, Wolf Moller. I’m certainly not taking you seriously.

  It wasn’t often that I lied to myself so blatantly.

  Chapter 7

  Eighteen places were set along an ebony table on which gleaming cut glass, silver cutlery and candelabra glittered in the light from crystal chandeliers. I had been placed between Joshua and David, with Steve opposite and Sophia beside him. Lobster bisque was served by three black waiters wearing white gloves, including the faithful Caesar, working under the watchful eye of a hired butler. The fish came and went while David plied me with questions about my work.

  ‘We study statistics, keep up with market trends, try to predict future earnings. That’s about it.’

  ‘Is “we” the royal pronoun?’ Joshua boomed.

  ‘We work as a team, Joshua.’

  The temperature was soaring. I found myself staring at a massive painting of an old English scene: a brace of partridge and a dead Muscovy duck lay on a kitchen table. I could almost smell the putrefying flesh.

  ‘Tell me, Nina,’ Steve tossed out casually, ‘do you ever get share options from grateful clients?’

  ‘No.’ I tried to disguise my smile. These guys had a lot to learn about subtlety.

  ‘So, sadly, you only make fortunes for others,’ Theo said. ‘Just a simple, salaried woman, eh, but with a hell of a lot of clout.’

  They were agile fielders, I had to admit, and they worked as a team. I sensed the guests tensing around me. Had they been waiting? It was time to take a stand.

  ‘I don’t go unrewarded. I’ve no complaints.’ A quarter of a million pounds a year covered my needs.

  David neatly took the ball. ‘A salary can never match capital, Nina. With capital you can go places. I don’t have to tell you that, do I? In this country we do things differently. We understand the value of a good man, – or should I say woman? Perhaps because we’re so short of financial expertise we reward those who have the necessary know-how.’

  ‘That’s the neatest way I’ve ever heard a bribe described.’

  He looked shocked. ‘It’s not a bribe, Nina. If you’re involved in the success of a group it stands to reason you should own a slice of the action. It’s a safety mechanism.’

  They were trying to make it easy for me, but to my mind their group was smelling worse than the partridges.

  Abruptly, the men seemed to forget about me as they chatted about matters of mutual interest. Their conversation was blunt and money-oriented. It seemed that every item, animal, vegetable or mineral, had to show a profit. They discussed antiques knowledgeably, the accelerating local taste for cabernets and the need to import new vines, the need for more game parks and the soaring prices of zebra and giraffe in local auctions. I learned that there was a huge profit in buying game to be shot by overseas hunters. They wore their wealth with well-practised ease, and if they intended to dazzle me, they succeeded, but I was also repulsed.

  ‘What a charming dress, darling.’ Sophia broke her long silence. ‘Such an unusual line,’ she enthused. ‘I don’t recognize it from this season’s collections.’

  So it was war! ‘I’d hate to be a slave to fashion, Sophia. Catherine Walker designs my clothes to suit me.’

  ‘You prefer English designers? How patriotic!’ Now she was openly sneering.

  ‘Not really. I just love her work.’

  When the waiter carried in a silver meat dish with a spit-roasted side of lamb, Bernie stood up to carve.

  ‘No one else does this to my satisfaction.’ He sharpened the knife with a flourish and stopped, hands in mid-air, as we heard the sound of screeching brakes coming from the road. Then came a massive crash followed by a series of loud thumps. An agonized scream was abruptly terminated, followed by groans and cries for help.

  Joy said, ‘Oh, God. Of all times! The roast’s getting cold, darling.’

  I gazed at her in shocked silence, scared by her indifference. Then I jumped up. ‘We must do something.’

  ‘You’re a stranger here,’ Joshua muttered, taking my arm and thrusting me back on to the chair. ‘Leave it alone.’

  ‘Rightie-ho, Joy! Smells delicious.’ Bernie hesitated, looking around for approval. I gathered that he wasn’t au fait with the correct social etiquette for dealing with the dying at a dinner party. ‘Here goes!’ He began to carve.

  The cries were becoming louder and more urgent.

  ‘Caesar!’ Bernie turned imperiously. ‘You go. We’ll cope here. Make sure to call an ambulance and the police.’

  A howl of anguish propelled me to my feet.

  ‘Not our problem, Nina,’ Joshua said. ‘We don’t want to spoil Joy’s dinner.’

  ‘Excuse me!’ I shook off his arm.

  Wolf was making for the door. I followed him and heard Joshua tagging along. ‘Keep close to me,’ he commanded. ‘Be careful.’

  A torch flickered ahead as we ran down the driveway. A flash of lightning revealed a minibus wrapped around a tree that had half toppled over, crushing the neighbouring wall. The injured lay sprawled around the road. There was so much blood. Neighbours were arriving and together we hauled the injured to the grassy verge.

  I thought I heard muffled groans coming from the ditch behind a bush. Shielding my face with my arms, I pushed through the branches. A dark figure was bending over an injured woman and for an idiotic moment I thought he was helping her.

  ‘Is she badly hurt?’ I called.

  He whipped around, rings, necklaces and bags clutched in one hand. I saw the whites of his eyes flash in a sea of darkness. A single movement flung me against the tree-trunk. I saw a shaved head, felt his hot breath, and smelt his rancid body odour. ‘White whore!’ His voice was thick with hatred. He grabbed my pearl necklace, tearing the clasp against my neck, while his other hand fumbled in my crotch. I squirmed and fought him in silence, not believing that this was happening, while his victim screamed for help.

  A knife flashed towards my face. I caught hold of his hand with both of mine, trying to push him away, panting, slowly losing. Running footsteps were approaching. Dropping the knife, my attacker fled as Wolf flung himself into the ditch.

  ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘No,’ I panted. I took a deep breath and picked up the knife. ‘He would have stabbed me. But why?’

  Joshua had appeared behind him. ‘These tsotsis prey on the weak,’ he said heavily. ‘You should have stayed with us. I warned you.’


  Thank God no one could see how shocked I was.

  A doctor had arrived from a neighbouring house and we could hear the sirens of approaching ambulances and the police, so I walked back to the house. In the bathroom I stared long and hard at my reflection. I looked composed.

  When I returned to the table, Joy was none too pleased with me.

  ‘Can you believe it? A man was actually robbing the injured…

  My voice tailed off as Joy shot me a pitying glance. ‘So what’s new?’

  My plate had been kept warm: peas, pumpkin, lamb, roast potatoes, mint sauce and gravy. I drained my glass and David refilled it. The wine was dry and strong, and I felt the blood returning to my cheeks.

  ‘My latest,’ David told me. ‘We brought the vines over from Italy. You must come out and see our place. Sophia’s refurbishing our home.’ He gazed fondly at his young starlet, who rewarded him with a bored smile.

  I could not shake off a curious sense of unreality as we finished dessert.

  Wolf returned as we moved from the table and, as I looked up at him, I tried to explain something that I only dimly perceived. ‘This rich home, the pattern of life, it’s an illusion. To me it seems we’re like travellers adrift in a luxury yacht in savage seas.’

  ‘Hey there, calm down. You’ve had a shock. Let it go.’

  Wolf hung around chatting about local wines for the next few minutes while I got a grip on myself.

  Chapter 8

  The next morning we left Cape Town airport at six a.m. and arrived in Johannesburg in time for breakfast.

  ‘Where’s Wolf?’ I asked Joy. There was no sign of him.

  Joy shot me an inquisitive glance. ‘I didn’t think to invite him. It’s too late now. Sorry, Nina.’

  By the time we finished breakfast, it was raining. A minibus took us to a runway where Steve’s private jets were waiting. As we soared into a darkening sky, the pilot tried but failed to rise above the Highveld’s summer storm. We were pitched in all directions. Above, around and beneath us blue-black clouds, seemingly alive, surged towards us, nuzzled and jostled us, exploded in our faces; retreated, regrouped and rushed back again. Through the near-darkness, forked lightning stabbed at us. My blood succeeded in catching up with my body when we flew into sunlight at noon.

  ‘Phew!’ Bernie said. ‘That was a bad one.’ I noticed he’d drunk most of his bottle of Scotch.

  We came in to land on a short runway inside the game camp’s living enclosure. As I stepped off the plane, a wave of heat enveloped me. It was like going into a sauna, and my lungs burned, my nose dried, my eyes smarted.

  Bernie put a hot arm around my shoulders and spoke in an undertone. ‘I’ve invited everyone you’re likely to want to meet. We start work today with drinks and a buffet lunch. Satisfied? All the big fish will be here. Anyone else you come across is a minnow. Don’t waste time on them. Remember that.’ His whisky breath washed over me.

  ‘When I need a big brother, I’ll come to you, I promise, Bernie.’ I kept my voice low so that Joy would not hear.

  Bernie’s bonhomie evaporated. For a fleeting moment, his guard slipped and his eyes gleamed with dislike. Then the mask was back in place. ‘That’s a deal,’ he said, as if I had paid him a compliment.

  Annoyance fled when I caught sight of a giraffe towering over the fence only a few yards away, peering at us with an expression of benign curiosity. I was tossed into a state of happy anticipation as we piled into the Jeep and sped around rows of rondavels situated on a rise overlooking the river. Braking beside a grove of trees, Joy pointed to the nearest hut. ‘There you are,’ she said, handing me a key. ‘Remember the number. See you in the lodge in a few minutes. Drinks before lunch. For God’s sake, wear something light and informal. None of your linen suits here. Shorts or a skirt and a T-shirt, otherwise you’ll boil, quite apart from looking ridiculous.’

  Bernie shot her a scathing look and Joy closed her mouth fast.

  ‘Thanks, Joy. I appreciate your help.’

  I had a grandstand view of the river, and I guessed I had the best position. Bernie was sparing no efforts to please me. My hut was charming inside: a large circular bedsitter, with cane settees, a grass mat, comfortable chairs, a bed and a cupboard. I strolled down the sloping lawn to the fence overlooking the river far below.

  A tall buck steps from the reeds, its coat burnished silver in the brilliant sunlight. Ethereal and graceful, it moves to the sluggish water as if gliding through a dream. I long to be a part of the beauty, but it remains inviolate and tantalizing. Scent and sound embrace me: toasting fragrant herbs, the fetid aroma of the water buck, the heady chant of cicadas and, overpoweringly, the birdsong. I am struck by the intensity of the moment. I flow and merge, intricately bound into the fabric of the bush. No longer a spectator. Paradise.

  Chapter 9

  The cocktail party, on the other hand, was more like hell. I paused in the doorway, suddenly aware that shorts and T-shirts were not for me. Compared with these birds of paradise, their honey tans set off by the brilliant colours of their elegant sports clothes, I looked as if I’d been buried alive for a couple of years. I should have worn slacks, but it was too late and too hot. Too bad.

  A woman nearby turned towards me. ‘My God.’ She gave a high-pitched neigh. ‘Did you just fly in from Alaska?’

  ‘It felt like it.’

  I was drawn into the group, introduced, and subjected to a polite third-degree as the women tried to place me in their status scale. What were their guidelines? Not class, fame or achievements but wealth, I soon discovered. Their conversation was foreign to me as they discussed the merits of hired caterers and butlers, where to dump the kids during the school holidays, the pros and cons of the more fashionable slimming farms.

  The husbands, sporting khaki bush gear, seemed to prefer their own company as they gathered around the bar. Stern-eyed and predatory, they were all larger than life, deeply bronzed, with hairy legs, thick as saplings, and sinewy muscles. Sun and space had brought about a strange transformation, for they were hardier and tougher than the European stock from which they had sprung. I sensed that to these magnates, life was yet another corporation to be stripped down to asset level and exploited.

  ‘Hey, Nina.’ Bernie approached me from the bar. ‘Come over here.’ He tugged at my arm. ‘Johan’s a valuable contact, and an amazing fellow.’

  ‘Cut the eulogies, please, Bernie.’

  Johan, a middle-aged brute of amazing girth, with grizzled, crew-cut hair and a battered nose, appraised me coolly. I guessed that he had calculated the cost of my clothes, my age, my IQ and my fucking ability in one sweeping glance. He came out from behind the bar, took my arm and led me to a bench covered with a hairy skin that prickled my bare legs when he drew me down beside him.

  First came a glass of wine. ‘Try this, Nina. I’d be interested in your educated verdict. It’s from my estate.’

  ‘Excellent! I love it.’ Clearly, owning a vineyard was the ultimate status symbol.

  Johan smiled pityingly and I realized that I should have said much more.

  ‘Taste this, my dear,’ he went on, in a gruff undertone. ‘You’ve never tasted meat like it in your life.’

  He speared a long sliver from a marinating tub beside him and held it poised, dripping red wine into the tub. The drips ceased and I watched in fascinated horror as the fork moved towards me.

  ‘Open,’ he commanded.

  Cupping one hand under the meat, he shielded my clothes while the fork moved towards my mouth.

  ‘Mm-mm.’ I shook my head and closed my mouth.

  ‘Don’t be a coward. Open your mouth.’

  ‘It’s delicious, Nina. Try it. You must,’ the men chorused.

  Oh, Eli, you owe me danger pay.

  ‘Nina, give it a go.’ That came from Bernie, and it sounded like a plea.

  ‘D’you know why it’s so delicious, so tasty, so sweet? It’s because the buck felt no fear. Fear taints the meat. To my mind abattoirs
should be banned. The pain of being herded together, the anguish of watching the others die, knowing their turn will soon come…’

  Oh, God! ‘Is it kosher?’ I interrupted him, with sudden inspiration. ‘No? Well, in that case, I’m afraid…’ I rose, trying not to smile in the face of Bernie’s embarrassment. I’d make my peace with him later.

  Advancing as far as the doorway, I hovered and looked back. They seemed to be waiting uneasily, as if they had missed their cues. I was reminded of a staged charade playing out a hidden message. I, too, had a role to play, but what was it?

  Chapter 10

  Pushing my hat in place, I abandoned the party and wandered over the sloping grass to a grove of tall, graceful trees, heavy with gigantic pods, shuddering in their deep pools of shadows. The wind blew the spiky arms of the acacias, scattering yellow blossom and rocking the weaver birds’ nests in time to the undulating yellow grass. Beyond the trees was a game track, cutting steeply through tall reeds to a near-dry tributary of the river far below. I slithered down and reached the shady riverbed. Far above, the trees waved their large leaves in sparkling sunlight.

  It was so silent. I took off my shoes and crept uphill a short distance to examine a clump of tropical palms fringing the shore. I caught sight of monkeys watching me from way up in a tree, but then a sudden sense of unease sent me scurrying to the bank. Yet nothing was around so why worry? I sat on a rock in the shade, enjoying the heat and the joy of being alone. Then the bush came to life with the cicadas’ heady vibrations, then birdsong.

  Twigs snapped behind me like gunshots. I stood up and backed into the bushes, trying in vain to calm my panic.

  Moments later, Wolf stepped out of the reeds and I almost yelped with relief. I wanted to call out but the intensity of my feelings alarmed me. Needing time to pull myself together, I remained hidden.

  My first impression was of his gracefulness. He was tall and slender. He wore only a loose khaki vest and brief shorts with a hunting rifle slung over his shoulder. I could see the lean strength of his limbs. He was barefooted and his hair looked lighter in the sunlight, his skin darker, his eyes more brilliant.