The Perils of Skinny-Dipping (3 page)

Isaac was also renowned for his homemade beef burgers sourced from the succulent, organic, local cattle, and they were now part of the fixed Wednesday routine as much as the collection of the trees.

‘
A quarter pounder and a double cheese burger please, Isaac,’ shouted Phil.

‘
A double, Phil?’ said Abbey, aghast. ‘You’ve just munched on two fat cakes, which are akin to lead weights!’

‘
Look hun, got to keep my strength up. Don’t know what the rest of the day has in store for us now, do we?’ He smiled at a couple of burly Afrikaans who sat at the next table. ‘Got an insatiable appetite this one!’ he said, pointing at Abbey, a mischievous smirk on his face.

Abbey shifted uncomfortably in her chair and smiled sarcastically back at him across the table.

By midday, the bakkie was loaded with new trees and they were on their way back to the office. Richard was already there when they arrived. He studied Phil carefully to try and detect any sign of a hangover.

‘
Got everything?’ he enquired.

‘
Everything,’ replied Abbey, already writing up the new stock numbers in the purchase book.

After unloading the trees off the bakkie, the rest of the day involved walking around the new plantation not far from Abbey’s house, checking that the newly installed irrigation system was working properly.

‘
So, what are your plans for tonight?’ asked Phil, as he cleaned the end of one of the plastic pipes.

‘
Usual,’ replied Abbey.

‘
Oh, that’ll be bath, bed and a date with Agatha Christie then!’ chuckled Phil.

Abbey smiled. Despite Phil stomping with his size nines once again on sensitive ground, she couldn’t help but like him.

‘
Going to make me a better offer then, stud?’ she said, looking directly at him.

Abbey had never viewed Phil as a potential dating opportunity, and had never imagined being intimate with him in any way, but she enjoyed his company immensely. Plus, he had a wicked sense of humour and made her laugh. That in itself was worth a couple of hours of her time.

‘
Well, as it happens,’ he replied, ‘there’s a short shorts do at the President’s Lodge tonight. Heard the chat about it last night in the bar. Fancy going?’

There were two safari lodges in Kasane. The President’s Lodge and the Savuti Lodge. The Savuti Lodge was the more upmarket lodge of the two and much more expensive. The President’s Lodge was not quite as exclusive and was used by locals, tourists and Dutch men wearing particularly short, khaki-coloured shorts, shouting drinks orders in their guttural Afrikaan tone.

The hotel stood about fifty metres from the riverbank, giving easy access to the water safaris and fishing trips regularly organised by the hotel guides. Around the main building lay approximately ten acres of immaculately tended grounds, abundant with trees, shrubs and brightly coloured flowers. The furnishings were of good quality and the hotel boasted a swimming pool, two restaurants and a hairdresser, who was housed in a tree house in the gardens not far from the river. Customer service was second to none, and Abbey had compared their attitude and willingness to help as far superior to any experience she remembered having back home.

In a bid to escape the heat during the hottest months, Abbey had sneaked into the pool at the President’s Lodge in the very early hours on several occasions, and swam naked in the refreshing, cool, clear water under the moonlight, with nobody but the bullfrogs and the crickets to keep her company.

She thought for a minute. ‘Yeah, OK. I’ll meet you there?’

‘
Smashing. See you about eight in the terrace bar.’

‘
See you there - and Phil,’ she called after him, ‘don’t be late.’

He smiled and, with a wave of his hand, disappeared down the hill.

Chapter Three

Abbey arrived at the Lodge at exactly eight o’clock. She walked through the beautifully kept gardens, carefully keeping to the path so as not to tread on the delicate flowers and shrubs. As predicted, Phil was nowhere to be seen. The last time she had been at the hotel had been a couple of Fridays ago during the notorious happy hour. Alcohol was cheap enough in Botswana, and getting an order of four double gin & tonics for the equivalent of a few pounds provided any serious drinker with the challenge of drinking them before the ice melted.

She had sat at the bar with another ex-pat from Birmingham, Judith, who had a temporary contract teaching in the local junior school. A rotund, partially bald South African had approached them and attempted to make conversation, focusing most of his attention on Abbey. His name was Mr Permelo and he was the manager of the Savuti Safari Lodge. He had lived in Chobe for several years and his reputation for being an intimidating, self-opinionated bully was well known. Abbey found it amusing that he would rather drink in this bar than his own, even though everyone knew who he was, and very often avoided him.

As the evening wore on, she had felt particularly uneasy as his arm slowly wound its way around her waist.

‘
How is business at the Savuti?’ she had asked, trying to move away from his roving arm.

‘
Just finish your gin and tonics, girl,’ he hissed down her ear. ‘Then we’ll go back to your place and make some business of our own.’ He clasped his hand tightly around her wrist, his hot breath on her cheek.

Abbey had quickly excused herself to the ladies and walked straight out the front door of the Lodge and back home. She had sent a message to her friend via the doorman that she had left the building. Ever since that evening, Mr Permelo had made no attempt to communicate or acknowledge Abbey in any way, which had come as great relief to her as she still shuddered with disgust at the mere thought of him getting close to her.

Phil arrived within minutes of her finding a table on the terrace bar overlooking the pool. She saw him approach, still looking slightly dishevelled, but wearing clean jeans and a typically boyish grin.

‘
Hi, hun, been here long?’ he asked, as he sat down opposite her.

‘
Not really. I got you a Castle, that OK?’

‘
Perfect,’ he smiled. ‘Cheers!’

‘
So what’s this in aid of then?’ Abbey asked, looking around at the ever-growing crowd.

‘
Oh,’ replied Phil, ‘it’s in recognition for enterprise and for local businesses in providing employment.’

The tourist industry was thriving in Botswana, and wealthy businessmen, mainly from South Africa, had been quick to settle here and take advantage of the droves of visitors, predominately Americans, hoping to get a glimpse of the ‘big five’ on safari and were willing to pay big bucks for the privilege.

Abbey had noticed that the increased injection of wealth into the local economy was not being filtered down amongst all the towns’ inhabitants, with wages remaining appallingly low; the divide between those who had and those who had not was constantly growing and very evident. Local housing usually consisted of the typical rondavals or simple, oblong, breezeblock buildings divided into a living room and a bedroom where the whole family slept. This was a far cry from the ex pat community and some of the wealthier locals who lived in much larger bungalows, with running water, electricity and a maids’ quarters at the bottom of the garden.

Phil leaned towards her and said in a low voice, ‘Don’t look now but there’s a guy over there that keeps looking over here, and I don’t think it’s me who’s caught his attention!’

‘
That is so damned annoying, Phil. Don’t look now but! When can I look then?’ she whispered impatiently.

‘
No need, he’s walking towards us.’

As the man passed, Abbey’s eyes followed him. He was tall, slim, with tanned skin and fair hair. He stopped at the bar and turned around just in time to catch her as she surveyed him. He smiled to himself and turned back to face the bar.

‘
Shit,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘I don’t believe that. He just caught me looking at him. God, this is so embarrassing!’

Phil sat back in his chair, looking very bemused at Abbey. ‘You really don’t get out much, do you?’

‘
What do you mean by that?’

‘
Look, hun, most of these events are just cattle markets, a free for all. Most of the wives are left at home to tend to the kids, if you get my meaning?’

Yes, she did get his meaning, which didn’t actually make her feel any less uncomfortable. She felt the sudden urge to leave but, before she could move, the man walked over to their table.

‘
Hi,’ he said, offering his hand first to Phil and then to Abbey. ‘My name’s Darren. I’m pretty new around here and you two don’t look either like tourists or members of the Afrikaans Mutual Appreciation Society!’ He spoke with a soft English accent, and Abbey immediately noticed his piercing blue eyes.

After the initial introductions it was Phil who started the conversation.

‘
Want to join us?’ Phil motioned to the empty chair next to Abbey.

Darren nodded and sat down, careful not to brush Abbey’s legs as he squeezed past.

‘
What you doing in Kasane, Darren?’ asked Phil.

‘
I’m a prospector. I’ve been given a four-month contract to prospect a two hundred kilometre area. As there is slightly more in the way of human activity around here, I thought it would be a good place to base myself.’

Botswana, like other African countries, was rich in diamonds and relied on them as the main source of revenue into the country. The Botswana Government was a substantial shareholder in an international diamond company, which had complete control over the sourcing, excavation, and distribution of diamonds from Botswana onto the market. It provided vital employment in many areas and was the principal benefactor in the improvement of Botswana’s infrastructure. Once a prospecting license had been granted to assess a certain area, prospecting companies were employed to carry out initial exploration to assess the viability of a full dig.

‘
Isn’t that a bit of a risky career?’ asked Abbey, who had been reading articles about blood diamonds and human rights abuses in some of the other African countries.

‘
I guess it could be anywhere else,’ replied Darren, picking up on her line of thought. ‘The Botswana Government has got the whole situation completely sewn up. If they hadn’t, I wouldn’t even think about working here. The foreseeable future of this country relies on the income generated by diamonds. If they go down the route of some of their neighbours – well, let’s just say that the Botswana we’re currently enjoying will no longer exist. There’s just too much to lose, for everybody.’

As the evening wore on, Abbey felt much more relaxed and lost the initial embarrassment she had felt when he first approached. They both found Darren very easy to talk to and the conversation flowed as each of them talked about their work and life in the heat and dust of the African bush.

‘
Have you been to Kasane before?’ enquired Abbey.

‘
Twice,’ replied Darren. ‘Only for a couple of days at a time though. I usually stay here at the Lodge. Do you still come here to swim, Abbey?’

Abbey froze on her chair. Mortified at his question, she felt her cheeks burn with colour. Now feeling extremely uncomfortable, she used the next opportunity she could to leave.

‘
Well guys, I’m really tired. I have to work in the morning, so I guess I’ll turn in.’

Darren stood as she rose from her seat. Phil looked over at her with an incredulous look on his face, which she tried not to notice. She bid them both good night and left for the comfort and privacy of her own home, her cheeks turning scarlet each time she thought about his question.

Perhaps she should have answered and said, ‘No, sorry, you must be mistaken, Mr Scott. I’ve never swam here, ever!’ However, Abbey had never been good at telling lies, not even little white ones. Her tendency to blush always gave her away.

The next morning, Phil was already sitting at his desk when she arrived at the office.

‘
Well, this is a first!’ she exclaimed sarcastically. ‘Have you been to bed?’

‘
Not desperate for a shag then?’ said Phil, continuing to read his paper without looking up.

‘
Excuse me! What do you mean by that?’ she rebuffed, shocked at his comment.

‘
You last night, Miss Frosty Knickers. That guy Darren was just about drooling and then you decide to leave!’

‘
Look Phil, not everyone wants to jump into bed with someone within five minutes of meeting them, you know. Don’t put me on your desperate level. Anyway, there was more to it than that.’

‘
Like what?’

‘
Nothing, really - now just drop it, will you?’

Phil didn’t reply, but shrugged his shoulders and left the office to work outside. Abbey had never told Phil about her skinny-dipping and knew he would howl with laughter if she explained her embarrassment at Darren’s question.

Later that day, Abbey was walking to the Spar shop when she spotted Darren leaning on his bakkie, talking to the manager of the President’s Lodge on the other side of the road. She held back, using the opportunity to look at him more closely. She guessed he was in his mid thirties. He was reasonably attractive and she had noticed his strong, muscular arms the night before. Abbey had always found muscular arms attractive in a man. Perhaps it was a sign of his ability to keep hold of her, she wasn’t sure; but skinny arms were a real turn off, despite the fact that muscular arms tended to be joined to broad, strong shoulders... She made her way quickly into the shop and waited for him to drive away before leaving.