The Perils of Skinny-Dipping (13 page)

Abbey quickly did a U-turn in the middle of the road and followed the bakkie. It pulled left into the Savuti Safari Lodge and drove around the back of the hotel, to the kitchen entrance. Abbey jumped out of the truck as soon as it stopped and walked over to Mr Permelo, who was giving orders to the garden boys.

‘
Mr Permelo,’ she said, ‘could I have a quick word with you please?’

‘
Ja,’ he replied. ‘It’s Abbey, isn’t it? Abbey Harris from AVP?’

‘
Actually, it’s Abbey Scott. Darren Scott’s wife. And yes, I do work for AVP.’

The tactic worked and Mr Permelo shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another.

‘
Can I ask you where you got those tree saplings, please?’

‘
Ja, of course. I bought them from Mr Morrison. I think he is your boss!’

‘
Wrong again, Mr Permelo,’ she shot back at him. ‘There is nothing in my contract of employment that states that Mr Morrison is my boss. Let’s just say I humour him! Now, how many trees do you have there?’ said Abbey, pointing to the trees being unloaded by the garden boys.

‘
I told you Miss… er, Mrs Scott… I bought them just now. Do you want to see my receipt?’

‘
No need,’ snapped Abbey. ‘We don’t sell tree saplings to anyone around here. They are the property of AVP and destined only for the official plantation sites.’

‘
But I have a receipt here, I will show you.’

‘
Mr Permelo, I don’t care if you have a letter from the Queen of England. Those saplings are not for sale. Please load them into my truck and I will return them back to where they should be.’

Mr Permelo stared at Abbey for a couple of seconds and then shouted more orders impatiently at the garden boys to reload the saplings onto the AVP truck, before storming back into the hotel. As Abbey drove out of the hotel driveway, she noticed dozens of new trees planted around the hotel gardens. She drove back to the office determined to have this out with Richard and force the truth out of him.

Richard was sitting at his desk, feet up as per usual reading the local newsletter. Abbey marched into the office and threw the keys down onto the desk.

Richard looked up. ‘You’re back earlier than usual,’ he commented, startled by her abrupt manner.

Abbey stared at him momentarily and then launched her attack.

‘
I have just recovered thirty trees from the Savuti Lodge Hotel which, Mr Permelo tells me, he has bought from you!’ She stood in front of him, resting both her hands on his desk. ‘Thirty trees which, when identified as missing stock, will no doubt once again be put down to my inability to count!’

‘
Abbey I can explain, there is certainly nothing untoward going on here!’

‘
Save it for Head Office, Richard. You either resign or I’ll blow the whistle. It’s up to you.’

Richard stood up, glaring at her.

‘
You’ve been waiting for any opportunity to get me out,’ he spat at Abbey, as he picked up his jacket from the back of his chair and began to walk away. ‘Ever since you lost your little friend, who obviously couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.’

‘
Oh, and Richard,’ called Abbey as he left, determined not to take the bait. ‘Could you leave me the list of interview questions you used to select our newest recruit? Just in case I need to employ a new labourer.’

Richard resigned from AVP with immediate effect. Abbey assured Head Office that she would assume full responsibility and had everything under control. The regional manager took the news well and was more than happy with Abbey’s capabilities. He assured her he would be in touch when the details of a replacement became available.

Abbey did not sack Boitachello, who had been standing nervously outside the office, but offered her a full-time position.

‘
As for your mother, Boitachello,’ said Abbey, ‘tell her to come to my house on Saturday morning at nine. I am in need of a house keeper, and I have a feeling that your mother will be in need of a job.’

Abbey returned home that evening feeling a touch of nostalgia. She had finally displayed the people skills, which had been instrumental in her rise to Marketing Director at Paradise Printing. Darren arrived home shortly after her, holding a bottle of wine.

‘
Who’s been ruffling a few feathers today, then?’ he grinned, pulling her close.

Abbey raised her eyebrows and laughed. ‘Good god, can nothing happen in this town without the bush drums relaying the news across the National Park within minutes?’

‘
Actually, I bumped into Mr Kobe, the assistant manager at the Savuti Lodge, in town. He told me about your run-in with Mr Permelo.’

‘
Umm,’ replied Abbey. ‘Don’t think he’s too impressed with me. I hope there’ll be no repercussions. This isn’t the first time we haven’t exactly seen eye to eye.’

‘
Don’t worry about him, Abbey,’ replied Darren, ‘there are plenty of people in this town who have been crossed by him and would welcome the opportunity to see him either go to prison, or disappear. I think he’ll keep his distance if he wants his antics to remain out of the hands of the police. Oh, and I don’t mean PC Plod down the road either. The fraud squad in Francistown have been watching him for some time now. Believe me, his days in Kasane are coming to an end.’

‘
Do you know him quite well?’

‘
No, not really,’ replied Darren. ‘Let’s just say I don’t see eye to eye with him either.’

‘
Good God, this just gets worse!’ she sighed. ‘You know, about three months ago Phil told me that Mr Permelo stabbed someone at a poker game? Did you hear about that? Do you think it’s true?’

Darren looked surprised at her question. ‘Well, given Phil was at that poker game, I would say so!’ he replied.

Later that night, Abbey was awoken by someone hammering on the front door. Darren was already out of bed. She listened to the voices, unable to make out what they were saying. She heard the door close and Darren came back into the bedroom.

‘
There’s a fire at the AVP office. I said we’d be there as soon as possible.’

Without a second thought, Abbey was out of bed and pulling her jeans on. They arrived at the office within minutes. People were shouting and running around throwing buckets of water onto the flames. The trees under the netting were alight and the flames were licking the window frames of the office. Not far from the gate was a standpipe. Between them, Abbey and Darren managed to organise people into two lines, passing buckets back and to. The heat was intense and sparks were flying up into the air. Abbey prayed that they wouldn’t take hold in the bush, as it hadn’t rained properly for some weeks.

Bucket after bucket of water was thrown onto the fire. The local rangers arrived with blankets and stamped out any sparks which were burning away from the main fire. It was nearly dawn when the last flame was quenched.

Abbey thanked the villagers and rangers for their help. The whole drama had lasted about five hours and the first shafts of dawn light were breaking into the dark sky as she walked around, assessing the damage.

‘
We’ve lost all our new stock,’ she sighed to herself, as she kicked the hot ashes with her foot. ‘Every single bloody tree.’

Darren returned from the higher plantations, walking down the hill with two of the rangers. ‘The second and third plantations are fine. Nothing’s been touched there. How many trees do you reckon have been lost?’

Abbey did a quick calculation out loud. ‘Well, I picked one hundred trees today from the Crossroads, and then there were the trees I recovered from the Savuti.’ As she spoke the last sentence she looked at Darren.

He nodded, reading her thoughts. ‘Seems to me that if Mr Permelo couldn’t have those trees, nobody could.’

‘
It could have been Richard?’ suggested Abbey.

‘
It could have been both of them,’ replied Darren. ‘Those two have been as thick as thieves for some time now. I wouldn’t put anything past either of them.’

‘
You know, this job is hard enough with the elephants eating and destroying the trees, without the vindictive actions of an imbecile like Richard.’ She paused, surveying the damage one more time. ‘I’ll have to ring head office tomorrow. Maybe they’ll give me enough money this month to replace these ones. I hope they’re insured?’

Darren scowled. ‘They bloody well should be, although if foul play is involved I’m not sure if they’ll be covered. Come on,’ he said, taking Abbey’s arm, ‘there’s nothing more that can be done here. Not for now, anyway.’

Chapter Fifteen

At nine o’clock precisely, a tall, slim lady dressed in a brightly-coloured frock and a straw hat walked up the drive and knocked on the door.

‘
Hi,’ said Abbey. ‘You must be Prisca, I’ve been expecting you.’

Prisca was Boitachello’s mother, and previously Richard’s maid. Abbey invited Prisca to sit down and offered her a cup of bush tea.

‘
Well Mma,’ continued Abbey as they sat opposite one another in the lounge, ‘I am going to be spending more time at the office now Mr Morrison has left, and I am looking for someone to come in and clean for me, just on week days. Would you be interested in working for me?’

Prisca smiled and nodded. ‘Yes Mma, I would be very happy to come and work for you. I will start on Monday, if that is alright?’

‘
That’s fine. Now tell me, what was Mr Morrison paying you?’

Prisca shifted in her chair uncomfortably before replying. ‘He paid me one hundred and fifty pula a week.’

‘
OK, well I am going to pay you two hundred pula and you can start at eight and finish at three. Does that suit you?’

Prisca nodded her head, looking quite satisfied with the outcome of the meeting.

‘
How long did you work for Mr Morrison?’ enquired Abbey.

‘
I went to work for him when I left the Savuti Lodge.’

‘
Oh,’ said Abbey, ‘I didn’t know you’d worked there first.’

‘
Yes, but Mr Permelo said he’d have to let me go. Said there wasn’t enough work for me to do, but that he knew someone who needed a maid straight away and he would give me a good reference. Mr Morrison hired me the day after.’

Abbey nodded her head as more of Richard’s manipulative behaviour was being exposed. She decided against sharing her thoughts with Prisca, but would talk it over later with Darren.

Abbey made another cup of tea and the two women sat and chatted quite easily as Abbey learned snippets about Prisca’s life. It never ceased to amaze Abbey how the people in this country survived the most unthinkable hardships, and yet emerged with pride and dignity, ready to face whatever life brought to their door next.

Prisca was originally from Shakawe on the west side of Botswana, close to the Namibian border. There had been no school for her to go to when she was a child, and she spent most of her childhood by her mother’s side, learning how to cook, sew and till the land. The minister from the local church had taught her how to read and write Setswana, on a Sunday, after the service - a skill that her father considered completely unnecessary for a young woman. He had taught her the practical skill of basket weaving, which could bring much-needed money into the home. Her father sold the baskets all over Botswana, and she had accompanied him one day on a trip to Maun to sell the baskets to the tourists. It was here she met her husband, Benjamin.

Benjamin had been working in the garage as a petrol pump attendant, not far from where they had set up their stall on the main road. After careful negotiations between Prisca’s father and Benjamin, they had got married one year later and moved to Kasane, Benjamin’s hometown. Boitachello was born exactly nine months later and, after a very difficult labour and birth, Prisca had been unable to have any more children.

‘
Where does your husband work now?’ asked Abbey, feeling a pang of guilt about not showing more interest in Boitachello and her family.

‘
He is passed,’ replied Prisca quietly. ‘I have been on my own for a few years now. I am not interested in men anymore.’

Abbey could see the pain in her eyes and instinctively knew that the scars from whatever had happened were only superficially healed. She wasn’t quite sure where Richard fitted into the story, or if he fitted in at all, and she certainly wasn’t going to mention his name again. She tactfully changed the subject and talked about the increase in visitors the town was enjoying, and the extra income it brought to the small shop owners, who very often struggled to make ends meet.

After they had finished the second pot of tea, Abbey watched Prisca make her way down the hill and was confident she would be as valuable an employee as her daughter was proving to be. She leaned against the doorframe as Prisca finally disappeared from view. ‘Bastards,’ she said to herself, when she thought about the contrived plot by Richard and Mr Permelo to lure Prisca into Richard’s grimy grasp. A shiver ran down her spine as she imagined what Richard’s agenda might have included.

As Prisca disappeared from view, Darren’s bakkie swung onto the road at the bottom of the hill. She waited on the porch for him.

‘
Well, did you find anything out?’ she shouted over to him, as he got out the cab.

‘
I’ve chased up the complaint at the police station and, to be quite honest, they seem to have several theories how that fire could have started, and none of them include arson. I think they’ll pay you a visit though, as I told them I had connections with officers in Gaborone, who would query why so little has been done.’