The Perils of Skinny-Dipping (4 page)

The week passed and Abbey and Phil’s relationship hadn’t suffered any damage, although Abbey’s love life was certainly not the topic of conversation again. The new saplings had been planted with the help of a band of volunteers from the town. Education was as important as the planting of new trees. It was imperative that locals continued to plant and care for young saplings long after AVP had left, if the National Park was to thrive in the long term.

Abbey enjoyed this aspect of her work and tended to do the more practical training out in the bush, leaving the classroom work to Richard. Despite the heat, she loved getting her hands dirty and wore her hair scrapped back in a ponytail. This was a far cry from the Abbey who had left Manchester a few months before. Immaculately manicured nails, make-up and stylish designer clothes had been Abbey’s stamp, and she was always careful never to be seen looking any other way.

At the end of the afternoon shift, she would walk home through the bush, taking care to keep to the allotted pathways. Wild animals were part of bush life and respecting their space and their nature helped to avoid any unwelcome attacks. Occasionally, some of the lionesses wandered into town in the night to steal the odd goat, but rangers were always on hand and arrived in plenty of time to usher the beasts back before anyone or thing ended up on the menu.

Abbey had been given a small brick bungalow at the top of a path which wound its way out of the town, and into the mouth of the bush. The house was moderately furnished, but provided the bare essentials and, after a good clean, and her personal effects scattered about, she felt quite at home. It consisted of two bedrooms, lounge, kitchen and a bathroom.

Across the front of the house was a wooden veranda with a swing bench. As time passed, Abbey spent more time out here than she did inside. She had become used to recycling her bath and washing-up water to keep her plants watered and viewed water as a precious resource, something that had never occurred to her in England. It now seemed sensible to her that the national currency was called ‘pula’, the Setswana word for rain.

Although crime was not a problem in the town, Abbey had learned the hard way that keeping doors, windows and fly-screens shut when the house was empty was essential. The Park was inundated with monkeys who did not recognise any boundaries, and viewed all property as free game. They were small, light-brownish in colour and amazingly agile, very noisy and could squeeze through a slightly ajar window with ease. Abbey had only been in Kasane a couple of days when she returned from work to find the house trashed, and most of her underwear and fridge contents strewn about her garden. The monkeys had sat in the nearby trees watching her tidying up, screeching across the trees tops to one another.

Phil had laughed when she told him the next day, as Abbey had previously described the monkeys as cute and funny, and had argued this point with Richard when he used a sling shot to frighten them away from the office.

‘
I hope you’re going to admit to Uncle Richard that he was right and you were wrong!’ Phil had teased. Abbey had decided not to mention the episode to Richard at all, and begged Phil not to either.

The bungalow sat in approximately half an acre of land and was encircled by a three-foot, interwoven metal fence, which was covered in pink and red rhododendrons. In the middle of the garden stood a large Marula tree; the sturdy branches provided the perfect haven for weaverbirds to build their nests in. This tree housed several nests, and Abbey would sit for hours watching the small, yellow birds fly in and out of the tree, armed with dry grasses and twigs.

The nests were dome-shaped and always built by the males. She had been amused to hear that the female weaverbird would inspect the finished nest and the male would wait for her approval on a nearby branch. If the nest was not approved, the female would destroy it and the process would start all over again. There was absolutely no question which gender was in charge in the weaverbird world!

As well as learning about the African culture on a daily basis, she was also learning about the other inhabitants that wandered freely in and out of her house and garden. Abbey had been sweeping the front porch when she encountered her first baboon spider. This type of spider was quite common and closely resembled it cousin, the tarantula which, to Abbey, just meant very large and hairy!

The spider had walked fearlessly passed her as she stood, frozen on the spot, broom in hand, waiting for the imminent attack. It stopped, sensing her presence, before scurrying down the steps and under the house. She had decided that these particular spiders were far worse than the flat, crab-like ones that hid in dark closets and cupboards, clinging to the walls, and moving rapidly sidewards once the door was opened. Even now, they never failed to make her jump each time one scuttled out of sight. At home in Manchester, the appearance of a spider in the house usually resulted in a full-scale operation which included neighbours and, on one occasion, a passer-by walking down the street. By Abbey’s standards, she thought she was coping extremely well.

She was, however, decidedly worried about what might be living under the house, as she had seen various animals and insects taking refuge under there. One rather large, brown, furry animal regularly ran under there when Abbey opened the garden gate in the afternoon. Phil had suggested it might be a mongoose which, according to him, was good, as mongooses killed snakes. He advised Abbey to leave it be. Whatever it was, underneath the house was certainly a place she would never dare to venture and find out.

Lizards of various sizes were also regular visitors to the bungalow, sunning themselves on the porch. These did not worry her at all as they kept the insect population down, and that, thought Abbey, could only be a good thing! Fortunately, she had not yet had a visit from any monitor lizards, which looked like small crocodiles and lived by the riverbanks.

Darkness fell across Botswana just before seven o’clock in the evening all year round. Abbey spent the long, warm evenings sitting on the veranda, observing the amazing starry skies, and listening to the rhythmic trill of the crickets. Her favourite time to sit out on the porch was when it rained. She found the sound of the raindrops falling steadily onto the dry ground comforting, as it lifted the blanket of heat and cleared the dust and humidity. Once the rain had retreated, it was followed by a flurry of activity from animals and insects, as if they had tasks that had to be completed in record time.

In all, Abbey’s new lifestyle created ample opportunities for her to sit quietly for long periods of time. This was a totally new concept to Abbey who, in the past, had usually only sat down long enough to down a Latte in Starbucks during her lunch break, if she bothered to take one. Abbey had finally learned to relax and enjoy the moment in time, rather than continuously thinking about the next. She thought about her job with AVP; despite it not being high profile or well paid, it had given her a sense of satisfaction that had eluded her in the past.

This thinking time had also allowed her to review the past and clear her head of memories that played over and over again in her mind. She hadn’t necessarily blamed herself for the breakup of her marriage, but she knew that all the blame couldn’t be laid at her ex-husband’s door. They had been young, naive and, if she hadn’t had been in such a rush to force her independence by leaving home, the situation might have been quite different.

It felt good to mull over past events and, in some ways, bring closure and a release of the guilt she had felt over letting other people down. In fact, she had concluded that the decision to take time out from her life had been a good one, and so far had no regrets.

Chapter Four

Over the next couple of weeks, Abbey saw Darren around town on numerous occasions. Sometimes, she managed to avoid being seen, and other times it was a quick smile and a wave as Darren’s bakkie passed her. She had noticed that he hardly ever seemed to walk anywhere and, much to her relief, she had never seen him in a pair of short shorts! He had rented a small house about five minutes drive from the centre of town, and appeared to live alone. Abbey also noticed his bakkie parked outside the Spar shop occasionally, which caused her to reconsider where she bought her groceries from.

She chastised herself for being so childish. What was the matter with her? Was it so bad that he had seen her swimming in the dead of night, naked? It wasn’t that she didn’t like him - or maybe that was the problem? Maybe she
did
like him and she was worried that he didn’t like her, or at least not enough to create an opportunity to ask her out. She laughed at herself. Maybe she was over analysing the whole thing.

The situation was soon put to the test as she walked home that Friday afternoon. Darren’s dark green bakkie was parked outside the Spar and, although Abbey had enough milk to last until the morning, she walked through the door and over to the counter. Darren was standing with his back to her, looking at the wine bottles. She picked up a litre of milk and went to pay Beauty at the till.

‘
Dumela Mma, glad it’s weekend?’ chattered Beauty.

‘
As always, Beauty. What about you? Have you any plans?’

‘
Oh, I gotta work as usual. Got no choice there. Too many mouths to feed!’

‘
Hello again,’ came the familiar voice behind her.

Abbey turned and smiled.

‘
Hi,’ she replied, feeling her cheeks burning yet again. ‘How’s the job going? Settling in OK?’

They walked out of the shop together as he answered both of her questions. There was a short, uncomfortable silence before he bid her goodbye and drove away. She smiled at her stupidity. No, he wasn’t interested in her at all.
Good
, she thought,
what a relief!
It would make things much easier in the future. No more looking around corners to check the coast was clear, although skinny-dipping at the lodge was definitely off the agenda from now on. As she walked home her heart wasn’t entirely flowing with the same sentiments as her head.

When she arrived at her front door there was a visitor waiting for her on the swing bench. Abbey smiled and waved.

‘
Hi Judith, I’ve been meaning to call you. I’ve not seen you about for ages. Where’ve you been?’

‘
I’ve been in Palapye, covering for a teacher who’s been off with suspected malaria,’ replied Judith. ‘I only got back this afternoon. So what’s new, anything?’

Abbey shook her head. ‘No, not really,’ she replied, wondering if she should report the latest arrival in town. ‘Anyway, I want to apologise.’

‘
Really! What for?’

‘
For leaving you high and dry the other week in the President’s Lodge. Remember, at the happy hour?’

‘
Oh, god yes, I’d forgotten about that. It’s OK, I guessed what had happened. He’s some toad that guy, isn’t he?’ giggled Judith. ‘I have to say, though, he didn’t have any interest in carrying on whatever the conversation was with me. Guess I’m not his type!’ She started to laugh heartily, holding on to her hips.

Judith was in her mid fifties and what the Africans would describe as traditionally built. Her hair had greyed and, when she laughed, she held the attention of everyone within half a kilometre, as the sound filled the room. She had befriended Abbey straight away, popping around for tea and going out socially to the lodges for a drink. Phil had never accompanied them on these nights out, making any excuse he could think of, and Abbey had detected a hint of disappointment on Judith’s face when she turned up alone.

They spent a pleasant evening swapping tales. Abbey cooked stir-fried vegetables and they ate on the veranda, surrounded by citrus candles to ward away the mosquitoes. By the time Judith left to go home, Abbey was feeling quite tipsy. She fell into bed and slept soundly. She awoke early the following morning, her dream still fresh in her mind. She had been hiding behind a bush in the President’s Lodge gardens watching Darren swim naked in the pool. He had got out of the pool, smiled and waved at her, knowing she was there all the time. She had run all the way home as fast as she could, not daring to look back.

The following Wednesday, Richard had gone to the junior school to talk about the importance of tree rooting and compost. Phil and Abbey were back on the road to pick up the next delivery of saplings. The delivery still hadn’t arrived by one o’clock, and was now well over an hour late. Phil and Abbey were not particularly bothered and quite happily munched their way through beef burgers and chips under the cool ceiling fans in the café.

‘
Do you think we should continue to wait?’ Abbey asked Phil as he ordered a second portion of chips.

‘
Well, we can’t leave now,’ he replied still eating. ‘That guy drives for over four hours to get here. I think he’ll be pretty pissed off if we’ve given up on him and he has to drive all the way back, complete with the load he left with.’

Abbey nodded. Yes, Phil was right and she would just have to ring Richard on the landline at the office and explain. Richard wasn’t back from the school and the answer phone clicked in. After leaving a message that they would be back much later than usual, Abbey had the distinct feeling that Richard would not take this news well and half expected a row when they got back. He would just have to like it or lump it. There was nothing else to be done. At least she would have time to rehearse her defence speech on the way back.