Love Is... (33 page)

‘Seems like it,' I said. ‘Well, you wasted your time, because I already know that. Besides,' I said, picking up my
glass again, ‘Nick's hardly been Mr Fidelity has he? You're the one who told me about his thing with Jenna.'

She sat back. ‘Er, no I didn't.'

I sat back too, mimicking her. ‘Er, yes you did.'

She shook her head and let out a sharp sigh. ‘I simply remarked that he was spending a lot of time with her.'

‘Yes, so much time she had to sleep in his bed. Or, more accurately, our bed.'

‘I didn't mean they were having an affair.'

‘Well, what did you mean?'

‘That you should be aware they were spending time together.'

‘Why?'

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Why do you think?'

I raised my eyebrows back at her.

She stared at me for a moment and then held up her hands. ‘It was to entice you back.'

I frowned.

She continued. ‘To get you away from—'

‘Dominic?' I asked.

She stared at me and sighed. ‘Are you aware that you smile every time you talk about him?'

I stopped smiling and reached for my drink.

‘You're in love with him, aren't you?'

I took a sip. ‘What do you mean?'

She looked me in the eye. ‘You. Love. Dominic. Don't you?'

I glanced out into the darkness. ‘I'm not sure I understand what love is any more.'

She rolled her eyes. ‘Trust you to say something obtuse like that.'

‘It's not obtuse.'

She forced a laugh. ‘Let me spell it out for you then: if love is wanting to shag someone's brains out and be with them all the time, then you love Dominic.'

‘I love Nick,' I said.

‘If you loved Nick, why did you leave him in New York to go gallivanting around the globe and taking naked baths with Dominic?'

I grimaced. ‘Naked baths?'

She sniffed. ‘Matthew told me.'

I glared at her.

‘He was concerned.'

I sighed. ‘It was a spring and there was a professor in there too.'

She snorted. ‘Oh, in that case it's perfectly acceptable.'

I shook my head. ‘Look. We kissed. We both knew it was wrong. But that's it. It's done now.'

Victoria took a sip of wine, without breaking eye contact.

‘I wish I could believe you,' she said.

‘You can,' I said, downing the last of my drink. ‘You have to.'

Chapter 27

A
t 5 a.m. Victoria woke me up with a prod to my arm. I opened one eye to see she was clad in full safari kit.

‘Come on,' she said.

I rubbed my eyes against the bright sunlight. ‘Come on? Where?'

‘Hasina said the witch doctor called. His advisor is collecting us in ten minutes.' She pulled off my blanket.

‘Why didn't you wake me?' I asked.

‘I just did,' she said with a smirk. ‘Now get your rum-soaked self out of bed.'

I stood under the open shower and let the cold water pour over my head.

Victoria peered around and looked me up and down as though considering a purchase.

‘You've put on weight,' she said, cocking her head. ‘It's not a total disaster, but you need to do something to sort that tummy out.'

I stepped out and pushed past her to grab a towel.

She nodded downwards. ‘And I know we're doing the back to nature thing, but there's really no excuse for that.'

I rolled my eyes. ‘At least it's supporting evidence that nothing happened with Dominic,' I said.

She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Hurry up,' she said, throwing my clothes on the bed. ‘We're going to be late.'

We walked round the front of the lodge to see a Jeep parked. There was a man wearing a zebra-print shirt in the driver's seat. He turned to us and smiled.

‘Good morning,' he said in a strong Swahili accent. ‘My name is Jengo.'

Victoria stood by the passenger door as though waiting for it to open by itself. ‘Good morning, driver,' she said.

He smiled and nodded at the door handle. ‘It won't bite,' he said and then chuckled.

Victoria sniffed and then pulled the handle down roughly. Just as she was about to pull herself up into the seat, she suddenly jumped back and screamed.

‘What the hell is that?' she said stepping back further.

I peered in.

‘Matilda,' he said. ‘She's Dr Menzi's advisor.'

Victoria shook her head quickly as though trying to clear her vision. ‘He has a pet warthog?'

Jengo leaned back to pat the warthog's head. Matilda shuffled forwards and eyed Victoria. ‘See, she likes you,' he said. ‘Now please get in.'

When it became apparent that Victoria had no intention of testing Matilda's affection for her, I climbed into the Jeep first. Victoria reluctantly followed, then sat as squashed up
to the passenger door as she could. Matilda rested her head on my lap and stared at Victoria, who occasionally snuffled her nose and grunted.

While he drove us to an undisclosed location, Jengo prepped us for our meeting by explaining Dr Menzi's eccentricities, or at least those beyond seeking counsel from a pet warthog.

‘He doesn't like to be interrupted when he is speaking,' Jengo began. ‘He is a man of few words.' Jengo raised his hands to the sky. ‘But the words he chooses are powerful. They can grant us life, like the rains, we say in Swahili.'

I nodded, relieved that his hands were now back on the wheel.

Victoria rolled her eyes, then shot a sideways glance at Matilda, who was still staring at her. Victoria smoothed down her ponytail.

Jengo leaned back and patted Matilda on the head. Then he glanced at Victoria. ‘She senses your doubt,' he said.

Victoria sighed. ‘She's a hog. She probably senses the undigested breakfast in my stomach.'

Jengo chuckled. ‘You have much to learn,' he said.

Victoria let out an impatient sigh. ‘So what research has this doctor done? How is he an expert on love?'

Jengo chucked again. ‘He is no expert,' he said. ‘He is a vehicle.'

‘A what?' she mouthed at me.

‘A vessel, I mean. He is a vessel for wisdom.' He threw his hands to the sky again. ‘It is passed through him to others.'

Victoria screwed up her face. ‘A vessel for tourist money, more like.'

Soon after, Jengo screeched to a halt by a dusty copse. ‘We are here,' he said, turning round to face us. ‘One more
thing,' he said. ‘You must remove your shirts. He likes bare breasts. It's a tribal honour.'

Victoria looked up from her phone with a pained expression. ‘I don't think so,' she said, then pointed to me. ‘Although this one doesn't mind getting her kit off.'

I glanced at Victoria and then at Jengo. He grinned, then started to laugh. ‘I am joking,' he said. ‘Like British humour, yes?'

I smirked. Matilda grunted.

Jengo jumped out of the Jeep, still smiling. ‘Come on,' he said.

Victoria followed, smoothing the creases out of her safari suit. Matilda and I exited at the same time, almost becoming wedged in the footwell as we did. Matilda grunted and made a beeline for Victoria. Victoria sidestepped her a few times, then looked around for assistance.

Jengo ushered us through the trees and into a small clearing. There was a large tortoise and a cluster of mud huts. I looked around expecting to find an elderly man with a feathery headdress and bones coming out of his nose, but Jengo ushered us further along, past the mud huts to a large building with a high stone wall around the side. He pressed a button on some kind of entryphone system.

There were some exchanged mumblings in Swahili and then the door opened. We followed Jengo into a stunning marble courtyard, at the centre of which was a clear blue pool. Matilda trotted up to a daybed under a shady palm, hoisted herself up and then flopped down onto her side. Jengo walked through an archway and held out his arms.

‘Dr Menzi,' he said. ‘How are you, my friend?'

I peered around the pillar of the archway to see Jengo high-fiving a man resembling a cross between Snoop Dog and a
Roman gladiator. He was wearing furry loincloth, diamond-encrusted hoops in his ears and had a leopard skin draped over his shoulders. At the tail end of his brotherhood greeting, he caught sight of me watching. Victoria tightened her ponytail.

‘Welcome,' he said, swaggering towards us. I half expected him to launch into a 50 Cent–style rap about his crib:

You can find me in the sun, bottle full of rum. I'm into big pigs. I ain't into making love.

‘Come give me a hug,' he said, bypassing me and heading straight towards Matilda. She rolled off the sunlounger and trotted towards him before nuzzling his loincloth.

Victoria screwed up her nose.

Dr Menzi laughed. ‘It's the fur she likes,' he said.

Victoria held her hand up as though to halt any further explanation.

He smiled. ‘Can I get you any refreshments?' he asked.

I stood silent for a moment, wondering if we hadn't inadvertently wandered onto an Eddie Murphy film set.

‘Diet Coke?' I asked, realising it was an odd request put to a Swahili witch doctor but at the same time thinking that, given the circumstances, it seemed entirely reasonable.

He smiled, then turned to Victoria.

She sat up. ‘Don't suppose you have a Petit Chablis?'

He nodded. ‘Is 2009 OK?'

She stared at him as he backed away smiling.

When he was out of sight, and after Jengo had made his way outside, or inside, I hadn't really noticed, Victoria pulled out her phone from one of the many pockets of her safari jacket and began tapping on the screen. After a moment, she stopped to read something and then looked up at me.

‘Dr Menzi,' she said. ‘YouTube phenomenon, reached over ten-million views in the first week.'

I laughed. ‘Seriously?'

She scrolled down and read on, shaking her head. ‘Self-schooled sensation Dr Menzi Mandla Muti, the only surviving relative of the late Shaman Nkanyezi, Kenya's most revered witch doctor, has been dubbed the unlikely saviour by a loyal and extensive online community of American college students.'

I sat down next to her and grabbed the phone. Just as I was reading about the college server crashing during millions of Napster-style frenzied downloads of Dr Menzi's self-improvement videos, I suddenly heard the clinking of ice cubes in a glass behind me. It made me jump so I dropped the phone. Victoria lunged down to grab it but not before Matilda had snuffled it with her snout.

I looked up at Dr Menzi, who was grinning.

‘Drinks, ladies,' he said, placing the tray on a table and taking a seat on the lounger next to us. I caught Victoria eyeing his six-pack and nudged her in the ribs.

‘So,' he said rubbing his hands together and looking at the pool. ‘Fancy a dip?'

Victoria pulled down the hem of her jacket. ‘No, thank you,' she said. ‘We are here for answers.'

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Ah,' he said. ‘Now I understand why you're dressed like a Nazi.'

She narrowed her eyes. ‘It's safari chic,' she said, then sniffed, ‘which, considering the setting, is infinitely more appropriate than your Flintstone pimp ensemble.'

He laughed. ‘If you say so, Miss Uppity.' Then he handed her the glass of wine from the tray. ‘Although I doubt you'll find many of the big five in my landscaped courtyard.'

Victoria snatched the glass and took a sip. ‘Oh, I don't know. It seems you're wearing two of them,' she said, ‘and then there's that ghastly hog.' She gestured to Matilda, who was now sprawled at his feet.

Dr Menzi leaned over and scratched behind Matilda's ear. Matilda glanced up and then rested her head back down with a sigh. ‘She's telling me you need my help.'

Victoria spluttered her second gulp of wine out of her mouth. ‘Well, her porcine perception is clearly muddled,' she said. Then she pointed at me. ‘Ellie is the one who needs your help.'

He turned to me and raised an eyebrow. ‘You do?' he asked.

I nodded.

He glanced back to Victoria. ‘Those who know they need help concern me less than those who don't.'

Victoria took another sip. ‘You know nothing about me,' she said.

He looked up at the sky. The sun was slicing through the long leaves of the palm. ‘I know you're married, recently separated. You have a daughter who you've failed to bond with because she is too much like you for you to love her. Your husband is a good man who made a mistake because he felt starved of love. You try to push people away because you think it stops you from getting hurt—' he looked back down and took Victoria's hand ‘—and after thirty-five years of life, you've failed to realise that letting people love you is the only way you will ever learn to love yourself.'

Victoria tensed. Then blinked. Then she blinked again. She looked at me. I shrugged my shoulders. Then she looked back at Dr Menzi.

‘Utter nonsense,' she said, taking another glug of wine. ‘You could have gleaned all that from my Facebook page.'

Dr Menzi leaned forward and removed the glass from her hand. ‘When you care about yourself as much as you care for your friend,' he said, glancing at me, and then back at her. ‘Only then will you begin to heal.'

Victoria snatched the glass back, downed the remainder of the wine, and then marched off, claiming she needed the bathroom.

Once she'd gone, I smiled at Dr Menzi. ‘Thank you,' I said.

He raised his eyebrows. ‘She didn't need me to tell her that, though, did she? You could have said it instead.'

I frowned.

He continued. ‘You are less of a good friend than she.'

I sat up. ‘What?'

He looked me in the eye. ‘She is worried about you. And you are also worried about you. When did you stop putting other people's happiness before your own?'