front of the Boeing.
‘Oh, I found my earring by the way,’ Carla said both to Sannie and Tom as they all waited for the picture to be taken. ‘It wasn’t in Tom’s room after all, it was in the library!’
Sannie van Rensburg wondered who Carla had been fucking in the library. She was still angry at herself and her petty jealousy of the woman, and she tried to concentrate on the broad back and bald black head of Patrick Dule. She was in the back row of seats of the Land Cruiser carrying the two dignitaries, while Tom sat in front, next to Duncan Nyari.
There was something about Carla that grated on her — many things, in fact — but it was hard to fathom why she felt as strongly as she did about the woman. So she slept around, big deal, but it didn’t seem appropriate, she thought, for a woman in her position to flaunt herself in front of guests, particularly when they were there on business, as Tom Furey had been.
She chided herself again. Hadn’t she almost slept with her workplace superior? How professional was that? Anyway, all these thoughts only served to remind her that business and pleasure most definitely did not mix. It was good to be back in the bush again so soon. The sights and smells and general feeling of wellbeing she got from the Kruger Park almost made up for the fact that she would be missing her kids by nightfall. Little Christo had recovered from his head wound and was back at school. He’d asked if she would be seeing Tom, the Englishman who played football. ‘I want to show him my scar,’ he’d said.
Tom glanced back at her. She looked away, scanning the bush for wildlife and other lurking dangers.
Three of Tinga’s staff were waiting for the vehicles. Two carried platters filled with cool drinks; the third, a tray stacked with cold hand towels. Carla leapt from the Land Cruiser she had shared with the ministers’ staffers and started organising other employees to escort everyone to their rooms. The politicians were looked after first. The South African minister’s policy advisor was an Indian woman called Indira. Sannie found her brusque and bossy, unlike the minister, who was actually quite charming.
‘Sannie, won’t you please take my bag to my room. I have to go and check the meeting room for the minister,’ Indira said to her.
‘I’m sure the staff can do that,’ Sannie replied. She wasn’t the minister’s bag carrier, and she certainly wasn’t Indira’s lackey either.
‘Hello there,’ Tom said, walking up to the two women. ‘Sannie, have you let Captain Tshabalala know that we’ve arrived?’
‘Of course,’ she said, knowing she sounded irritated and seeing that he picked up on her feelings. She had overreacted, but he was telling her how to do her job now. She guessed that Tom was simply trying to ensure everything was being done by the book, and he couldn’t have known that Indira had just irked her as well. ‘Yes, Tom,’ she said, her tone softer now. ‘I’ve made the call.’
‘Good,’ he said. ‘I’ll take a stroll along the board-walks on either side of the lodges.’
‘I’ll check out the conference room. The meeting’s not due to start for half an hour — it’ll give the politicians time to freshen up.’
He nodded, looked at her as though there was something else he wanted to say, but she guessed the presence of Indira, who was squawking into her cell phone beside her, stopped him. He left and she went off to the conference room, leaving the bags with Indira, who gave her a pained look, which Sannie ignored.
Sannie watched Tom walk away. She regretted snapping at him and wanted to tell him what Christo had said. Perhaps she would try to be a bit more civil to him later on. They might have time to chat while their principals were locked in their meeting and working lunch.
A maid was placing jugs of juice and iced water in the private room, but otherwise it was empty. Sannie walked out onto the deck and surveyed the bush around the lodge’s function area. There were no animals in sight, and no sign of spoor or flattened grass to indicate anything or anyone had been circling the room in the last couple of days. It was all clear.
When Sannie returned to the central reception area she saw Tom walking back from the far end of the boardwalk, but he was not alone. Carla was walking by his side — very close, as the walkway was quite narrow. She laughed, too loudly, at something he had just said and the cackle sounded to Sannie like a hyena’s call. Carla put her hand on Tom’s arm and any charitable thoughts Sannie had had disappeared.
‘Can’t wait to get the VIPs sorted,’ Carla said in an exaggerated stage whisper to Sannie as they approached her, ‘then we can all settle down to some lunch and gossip.’
8
Lunch at Tinga was every bit as good as Tom’s last meal at the lodge. This time they had kabeljou, a South African fish grilled and served with golden chips. A simple meal but very tasty.
It started with him and Sannie sitting down together to discuss arrangements for the afternoon, and ended with Carla joining them and taking over the conversation. He could see now that Sannie quite clearly couldn’t stand the woman.
Indira and Bernard popped in and out of the meeting at different times to make or take calls on their mobile phones, but for Tom and Sannie most of the afternoon was spent waiting. Carla left them to check on the guides for the afternoon game drive, but by that stage Sannie had already drifted away to read her novel, and Tom felt as though he’d missed another opportunity to talk to her. He went back to his room to change out of his suit into casual clothes for the afternoon drive.
They boarded the Land Cruisers at four pm sharp. Both VIPs seemed cheery and friendly to each other, so Tom guessed the afternoon’s lunch and meetings had been positive.
There were only two vehicles out on the drive. Indira and Bernard sat behind their respective ministers in the lead Cruiser, while Tom, Sannie and Duncan were in the second.
‘Nothing happened, you know, between Carla and me last time,’ Tom said quickly, getting it all out before she had a chance to interrupt.
Sannie looked at him. ‘It doesn’t matter, Tom. I told you before, I don’t care.’
He waited for her to say more, to fill the void, but she was a police officer too. She knew when to shut up. Stalemate.
On the private dirt road leading out from Tinga, they passed small herds of impala and waterbuck, and three kudu. The kudus’ delicate features, big ears and doe-like eyes made them look the most innocent of creatures, Tom thought. Sannie remained silent and Tom, disappointed, told himself she was not going to crack.
‘Christo wants to show you his scar.’ She looked straight ahead, dutifully noting the zebra that Duncan had just pointed out.
Tom smiled. ‘Greeves suggested on the flight over that if I came with him again, if Nick… well, you know, that I take some leave and spend a few days over here after his next visit. Perhaps I could drop in and say hi to the kids.’
‘That might be nice.’
He could see she was gripping the bar in front of their seat, even though the dirt road was well graded and there were no bumps. Slowly, he told himself. This is a big move for her. ‘Perhaps dinner.’
‘That also might be nice. Tom…’
‘Yes?’
‘Just friends, okay?’
‘Fine by me.’
‘Here comes the tar road.’
He focused his mind back on the job, though he felt a flutter of happiness for the first time in a long time. Instead of feeling as though he was being unfaithful, he thought Alex would have liked Sannie. They were both bright, articulate women who, unlike him, were good at expressing their feelings. Tom was sure that Alex, who had a passion for wildlife conservation, would have loved the African bush as much as Sannie did. Tom looked around as they turned onto the Tarmac. There was one car behind them, a white Corolla, pulled over on the side of the road. He saw the reflection of late afternoon sunshine on a camera lens. It was pointed their way, not into the bush. ‘We’ve got company,’ Tom said, reaching into the pocket of his shorts for a notebook and pen.
