A Spear of Summer Grass (29 page)

I brushed the tears from my cheeks as I rose and put out my hand to Moses. “We’re going to Nairobi.”

He raised his hands palm up, questioning.

“Because I’ve been holding hands with ghosts for too long.”

I motioned for him to get into the truck Ryder had left and we headed for the
duka.
Mr. Patel was sewing on his veranda, running up long lengths of sari silk.

“I am making curtains,” he said, waving excitedly. “For Fairlight. To replace those which burned up. Only the best for
Memsahib
Delilah.”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I couldn’t pay for them. I couldn’t even be sure Edgar would want them for what was left of Fairlight. But I smiled anyway. “Mr. Patel, I need to go to Nairobi. Have you seen Ryder? I want to take the truck, only I don’t want to leave him without it if he needs it.”

He waved a hand. “The
sahib
has already left on my motorcycle. He will have no need of the truck. If I see him, I will tell him you have taken it to the city.”

I didn’t stop to ask where Ryder had gone. I waved and floored it, heading as fast as I could to Nairobi. Unfortunately, I had a puncture and Moses proved as useless with machines as he was gifted with cattle. It took me more than an hour to wrestle the wheel off and patch it, and by the time we reached the city, the afternoon was sitting in long shadows.

I had given it some thought on the drive and it seemed to me my best chance was to head straight to the top. I hadn’t bothered to wash or change my clothes and by the time I walked into Government House, I looked like something three days past death. My clothes were stiff with mud and sweat and my face was covered in streaks of soot. Mr. Fraser jumped to his feet as I strode into his office, Moses following close behind.

“Miss Drummond! What on earth—”

“I have a crime to report. Gates tried to burn down my farm.”

Fraser looked pained. “Do you have evidence to this effect?”

“No, but who else would it have been? I have a witness that he threatened me when I discharged him.” I jerked my head to Moses.

The lieutenant governor narrowed his eyes. “Is this the same boy that you reported Mr. Gates as having struck during the incident which caused you to discharge him?”

“Yes, but I hardly see—”

The inspector, who hadn’t even opened his notebook, rose and gave me a pitying look. “I understand your frustrations, Miss Drummond, but I’m afraid this matter is at an end.”

“At an end? Did you even hear what I said? The man tried to burn down the farm where I live.”

“Was anyone killed?”

“No, but that’s—”

“Was anyone materially injured?”

“Two with broken bones and one with a burned hand,” I recited. “Still, I hardly think—”

He gave me a cool look. “Miss Drummond. Africa is a difficult place. Too difficult for some. Now, I suggest you book passage back to England or New York or wherever it is that you came from and forget all about this.”

“That’s it? That’s all the Kenyan colonial government can offer? I am patted on the head and told to go home like a good little girl?”

“As I said, Africa is a dangerous and difficult place to live. This colony demands a very specific type of temperament to thrive here. One must be resourceful and strong and able to withstand anything. Very few people manage to live here happily.” He gave me a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I think it has become quite apparent that you, Miss Drummond, are not one of those people. And in light of this most recent development, I feel I ought to warn you that steps will be taken.”

“Just what does that mean?”

“It means that you will be asked to leave the colony. I’m afraid your time here is at an end.”

Moses’ hand crept into mine, and I tightened my fingers around it. “You can’t do that.”

“I think you will find that I can. The governor is indisposed with an attack of malaria and not expected to resume his duties here for at least a month. In his absence, all trivial matters are being handled by me. And you, Miss Drummond, are a trivial matter.”

“But I have permission,” I said, my voice hollow.

“Permission that may be rescinded at any time by this office. I did warn you of that when you arrived,” he said, a trifle more kindly. “But it would seem you have made a habit of trouble, and you have overstayed your welcome here. You may return to Fairlight to collect your things. Passage will be booked for you on the steamer leaving out of Mombasa in a fortnight. That should give you ample time to say your farewells.”

I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me beaten. I gave him as dazzling a smile as I could muster, the one that got me the best room at the Hotel de Crillon even when I was skint. “I’ve learned a lot from my time in Africa, Mr. Fraser, a lot about how to survive here. And one of the first things I learned is that before you count your kill, you better make damn sure you’ve done the job. Because something you’ve only wounded will have just enough fight left in her to make her dangerous. Come on, Moses. We’re leaving now.”

24

I went straight to the nearest telegraph office and cabled London. I had to do something, anything, and my only hope lay with Edgar. I explained, as briefly as I could, that Fairlight had been badly damaged by fire and that I wanted to buy the place. I cabled Quentin to offer him a business deal and to discover whether or not it was legal for Fraser to kick me out of Kenya. I bought Moses and myself each a stalk of sugar cane and we sat on the steps of the telegraph office to wait for the replies.

“Do you like Nairobi?” I asked him. I sucked at the cane, tasting a thousand memories of Reveille. Each year, the Colonel would take me out to the field to cut the first cane of the harvest, testing it for sweetness. He always cut a piece for me, peeling back the skin to offer me the pale flesh. It seemed impossible that the same taste was on my lips in Africa of all places.

Moses nodded excitedly then dampened his finger with juice from the cane to write on the step. “London.”

“You want to go to London?”

He nodded again. He occupied himself drawing pictures with the end of the cane while I ticked off the minutes.

Finally, as the sun dropped below the horizon and the brief evening turned sharply to night, the proprietor emerged with two pieces of paper. He put them into my hands and I thanked him, holding them up to the paraffin lantern to make out the words.

The first was from Quentin, assuring me that the lieutenant governor did indeed have the power to revoke my permission and have me chucked out. He promised to get on to one of his influential friends to sort it out, but that could take weeks, and by then I would have been bundled onto a steamer out of Mombasa. He also agreed to a proposition I had made him, and I felt my spirits rising as I tore into the next telegram, the one from Edgar. I read it over twice then three times before crumpling it up in my fist.

“Let’s go, Moses. There’s no reason to stay.”

I didn’t dare the drive all the way back to Fairlight in the dark. I stopped a little distance outside Nairobi and Moses and I slept in the truck. Hyenas kept up a racket during the night, and long before the sun was fully up we were on our way. We arrived back at Fairlight by lunchtime. The place looked sad and tattered and a little embarrassed as the acrid smell of smoke still hung in the air.

“Nothing hard work and some paint can’t fix.” Ryder emerged from the house as we arrived.

“Sorry I took your truck without asking.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t need it.”

“I went to Nairobi,” I started, but he held up a hand.

“First things first. I need to take Moses home.”

“Moses has gotten himself to and from his village a hundred times without help,” I snapped. I was tired and cross and all I wanted was a stiff drink and a proper sleep.

“Not this time,” Ryder told me. He motioned to Moses and they set off. I threw up my hands and followed them. We struck out on the path that we always took, but even before we reached the village, I knew something had changed. There was no gentle droning buzz of activity, no smell of woodsmoke and milling cattle. The village was empty of life, and the gates all stood open to the savanna beyond.

“What happened?”

Ryder turned to me. “The Masai will leave a place when they feel it’s time. His village has moved on, and I know where they’ve gone. His
babu
asked me to bring him when I could.”

He headed us into the bush and I felt my anger growing with each step. Half an hour’s walk past where the village had been, the Masai were building a new settlement. The women had staked out new homes and were busy plastering fresh mud on the walls while the men constructed sturdy
bomas
to hold the stock. I stopped at a distance and nodded to Moses, telling him to go on. He waved at me and I turned back to the path, walking as fast as I could.

Ryder stayed to chat with the
babu
a moment, but caught up to me quickly.

“You don’t have a weapon,” he said lightly. “Did you forget everything I taught you?”

“Shut up,” I told him. “Just shut up. I don’t want to talk.”

“Fine. I won’t tell you you’re about to step in an ant-bear hole.”

I dodged it and dashed my hand across my eyes. Ryder caught at my hand but I shook him off.

“Leave me alone before you catch it,” I muttered, but his hearing was good.

“Catch what?”

“Whatever damned curse it is that’s following me around.” I strode off again, and Ryder followed more slowly, walking behind me until we reached the ruined garden at Fairlight. He took my arm, hard this time so I couldn’t pull loose.

“Want to explain that now?”

“No,” I said, but he didn’t move, and I realised he was prepared to stand there all night, holding my arm.

“Everything is ruined. Everything I’ve done since I came here is wrecked. Everyone I cared about has been damaged.”

“That is quite a curse,” he said solemnly.

“Don’t you dare laugh,” I warned him. “I will slap you so hard your grandchildren will be looking for your teeth.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he said, but his lips still twitched.

I raised my hand, and he took it, pressing it close to his chest. I could feel his heart beating, slow and steady, and I shook my head. “Don’t. Don’t be nice either. It’s just too hard.”

“What is?”

“Saying goodbye to you. To this, to Africa.”

“So don’t go.”

“I have to,” I told him. “Fraser is rescinding my permission. I have to leave within a fortnight. He’s booking my passage back to England.”

“And you don’t want to go?”

“Of course I don’t want to go!” I said it as though it were the most obvious truth, the truest thing that anybody ever said, as I said the words aloud for the first time. “I don’t want to go,” I repeated. “I tried to buy Fairlight today.”

“Did you?”

“Oh, go on and laugh! I know it’s funny. Everything I do is a goddamned joke. But I wanted this place. I wanted it so much I cabled Edgar and asked him to sell it to me.”

“And did he?”

“No. He said it wasn’t for sale. And even if he would sell, the price he named was so high, there’s no way I could have managed it.”

“I thought you had some expensive Russian jewellery tucked away for a rainy day.”

His hand was still flat over mine and mine was still pressed against his heart.

“They’re paste. The Volkonsky jewels are nothing but pretty glass. That’s why I wouldn’t turn them over to the relative who is making a claim on my husband’s estate. I didn’t want anyone to know that Misha had been broke when he died. It would have embarrassed him so much to have people know that everything was gone. I promised him on his deathbed not to tell.”

“So you’re broke.”

“Near enough. I sold my car to Quentin, but that only got me nine thousand pounds.”

“Nine thousand?” He dropped my arm and rubbed at his chin. He hadn’t shaved, and the sun glinted gold in the shadow on his jaw. “That will do.”

“For what?”

“Fairlight. I thought you wanted to buy it.”

I stared at him, wondering if the heat had given me some sort of sickness. “I don’t understand.”

He spoke slowly. “Nine thousand pounds. It’s a fair price. For that I’ll let you have the house and gardens and a few acres for a
shamba,
but no more. I have plans for the rest of the land.”

I balled up my fist and hit him hard on the shoulder. “Stop talking nonsense and tell me what you mean right now.”

He caught my fist and held it. “Edgar couldn’t sell you Fairlight because he already sold it to me. I want the land, and I’ll keep it. But you can have the house and the property around it.”

“Why do you want it?” I asked, seizing on the least important question of the dozen that had sprung to mind.

“Because I’m establishing a nature preserve. If I mean to do something meaningful out here, I’d damned well better start. I’m not getting any younger, you know,” he said.

“I don’t believe this,” I said. “I need to sit down.” He slid an arm around my waist.

“Better?” he said into my hair.

I pushed him away. “No, worse, actually. But we’re both forgetting that I can’t actually buy property here. I’m an undesirable immigrant, according to Mr. Fraser. I was a fool to think they’d let me stay.”

He shrugged. “They will if we tell them you’re my fiancée.” I reeled a little, but he kept talking. “It’s a small lie, and by the time they figure out that it’s not true, Kendall will be back at his desk. Believe me, Fraser is using his absence as a chance to get rid of you, but if you stand your ground, you should be able to pull it off.”

“You want a fake engagement?”

“Is there a better kind?” His expression was cool and unreadable.

“I don’t know,” I started, but he put up a hand.

“Don’t decide now. I have to go up to Narok and look at a plane that a friend of mine is willing to sell. There’s been a lot of talk about how useful planes could be in running safaris, and if that’s true, they’ll be doubly useful in conservancy efforts. If you decide to buy the place, just cable me there and let me know. If not, then I’ll see you around, princess.”

He put out his hand and I shook it slowly.

“Safe travels, then,” I told him.

He started towards me then stepped back sharply, as if he’d just won a war with himself. He lifted a hand in farewell and for just an instant he stood at the end of the garden, silhouetted against the trees. Then he was gone, and I was alone at Fairlight.

* * *

I was alone for all of that week at Fairlight until Tusker came. She brought tinned peaches and we ate them with new bread by the side of the lake. A lazy hippo was bathing on the other bank, rolling over slowly from side to side in the mud to cool herself.

“I hear you’re leaving us,” she said.

“Word travels,” I replied, smiling.

“You’re an idiot. And so is he.”

“Thanks for that. You’re the one who told me not to get involved with him at all, remember? Or was that just a tidy piece of reverse psychology to push us together? I know you told him I wasn’t a stayer. Was that another bit of manipulation to get him to fight to keep me? Never mind. It doesn’t matter now. None of it does.”

She shook her head angrily and seemed about to change the subject then decided to plow on. “You’ll be miserable in London or Paris or New York. Have you thought of that? You’ll be standing on some stupid street in a stupid city wearing a stupid frock and you’ll be struck straight to the heart, wondering what is happening here, what we’re doing then. And you’ll be sick over it, sick as a parrot.”

“That’s quite a picture you paint,” I said lightly.

“It’s the truth.”

“Things are complicated,” I told her. “And they’ll be less so if I leave.”

“Why?” she demanded. “Because loving hurts? Grow up, Delilah.
Life
hurts. It’s only the strong who survive. It’s only the gamblers who aren’t afraid of rolling the dice who really live.”

I sighed. “It’s no good, Tusker. I can’t stay here for crumbs. I thought he wanted me, but all he offered was a sham engagement. He’s far more concerned about his conservancy. I’m only ever going to be an afterthought for him. And to continue your gambling metaphor, if I were going to stay, it would have to be for a man who was willing to go all in.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” she said, flapping a hand irritably at a bug.

“It’s a poker term. It means when you are so sure of what you’re holding that you risk everything. You put every last bit you have on the line because you are that sure you’re going to win.”

She let out a little scream and tugged at her hair. “Oh, you impossible little wretch! Don’t you even realise that’s what he’s done?”

“What are you talking about?”

“
He has gone all in.
The day he went to Nairobi it wasn’t just to buy Fairlight. It was to sell everything else he owns in order to raise the money. The coast house in Lamu, the
dukas,
his cane fields. It’s all gone.”

My mouth went dry. “Don’t be stupid. Ryder already has money. His father made a fortune in the gold fields in the Yukon.”

“And squandered it in a year! Everything Ryder has, he earned. And he sold it all to buy Fairlight, not for some stupid conservancy project, but for you, you little fool.”

“Why didn’t he tell me?”

She rolled her eyes. “I have horses with more wit than you, girl. Because he didn’t want you to feel beholden. He wants you here because you
want
to be here, because you want him and this life enough to give the rest of it up. Why do you think he’s willing to go along with the preposterous lie about you being his fiancée? Because he’s hoping one day it will happen.”

She finished with an air of triumph. I put down my peaches.

“He can’t marry me. His wife is—” I broke off.

“In Cairo,” she finished smugly. “Where he went when you were sitting in jail in Nairobi. It cost him a fortune, but he got his divorce. The minute you stepped in to save Gideon, he knew he’d have to get rid of that slut wife of his so he’d be free to take care of you. It was only a matter of time before Government House bowed to pressure and chucked you out of the country. He wanted to be free to offer you marriage to keep you here.”

“But he didn’t—”

She shrieked again. “What man would? Good God, you’re the most footloose woman he’s ever met. He knew if he proposed sincerely you’d bolt for Mombasa. He’s figuring if he can just keep you here, eventually you’ll come around and realise he’s worth twenty of any other man you’ve ever known.”

I shook my head. “Stop it. Stop saying things like that. You’re confusing me.”

“Why? It should be crystal clear to you. He is as desperately in love with you as any man has ever been with any woman. You want poetry and heartfelt declarations? He has sold everything he owned, everything he ever worked for, just for the possibility of keeping you close enough to see you once in a while. He’s willing to wait for you until the crack of doom, biding his time and eating out his own heart because all he wants is for you to love him back. So do it,” she said, her eyes bright. “Do it, Delilah. Love him back. He deserves that.”