Echoes From a Distant Land (20 page)

The stallion was black with a splash of grey on his withers. He lifted his head as they entered the stable. He was big for an Abyssinian, maybe fifteen hands, and wasn't afraid to show his temperament, snorting loudly when Dana came closer.

‘He's beautiful,' she said, reaching out to stroke his neck. The stallion stepped back and shook his head.

‘He'll take time to settle down, but he's the best I've found up in Abyssinia for months. Mating him with Dancer, who has the speed, should throw foals with good staying ability.'

‘Thank you, Sam. I'll take good care of him.'

‘I know,' he said, and took her hand in his. ‘Dana, I wondered if I should be here at all. When I didn't hear from you, I thought you might have had regrets about what happened. I mean, you're married and —'

‘It's not that, Sam.'

He reached out to her, placing his hand lightly on her shoulder. It sent a shiver through her.

‘We were very indiscreet,' he said. ‘I presume your husband has found out about us and you've had second thoughts.'

‘It's not that. Edward and I don't have a conventional marriage.'

She didn't know how to continue and knew he was confused by her reserve. She so desperately wanted to explain. But how? ‘Sam …' she began. ‘Sam —'

The rattle of the old Albion coming through the home gate interrupted her. Edward had returned. She led Sam from the stable and sighed with relief. Until that moment she'd never regretted the decision she and Edward had made to live an unconventional life together, but the prospect of explaining that decision to Sam made it seem at once mad and shameful.

 

The Abyssinians were at that stage of their journey where they had become accustomed to the routine. Sam found that if he kept the numbers down to around a dozen horses they were easier to drive when he was working them on his own during the final leg of the journey. Now, as he headed them up towards the Northcotes' high pastures, they were very willing. They seemed to know they would find good grass and cool air there, reminiscent of the highlands of their home.

Sam needed the easy ride. He'd hoped Dana would have explained why she hadn't been in touch, but she'd said nothing. He regretted coming. He would stay the night and perhaps another to rest the horses, then leave her. He'd obviously made a big mistake.

How ironic, he thought to himself. I let down my defences just once and again the woman I have chosen has not chosen me.

After Sam left for the high pastures with his horses, Edward had been unusually kind and solicitous. He brought Dana a gin and tonic at sundown, and sat with her on the veranda watching the sun go from gold to blood-red.

‘You came back early,' Dana said, referring to his visit to the Banfields'.

‘Yes. John's in Tanganyika and Eliza's gone to Nairobi for the day.'

‘Did you collect the scarifier?'

‘The scarifier? No.'

‘But you had arranged to pick it up. Surely John wouldn't have minded.'

‘No. I'll go another day.'

Dana dabbed at her throat with her lace handkerchief, and sighed. ‘I'm so listless in this heat,' she said.

‘It's ghastly, especially for you, apparently.' He added more ice to her gin and tonic. ‘Do you miss England, my dear? The cool days; the cold nights?'

‘I do, sometimes.'

‘I must admit, I'm finding it difficult myself this year. And it's not just the weather. I've been giving this a great deal of thought … maybe it's time we went home.'

‘Home? You mean, to England?'

‘Yes. Prices are falling. Blasted socialists. Farm produce is worth nothing these days, and by the time you include the freight to market or the docks, you're lucky to break even. I'm fed up. To be honest, I've started putting things into perspective. I'm having second thoughts about what we're doing here in Kenya. I mean it's not home, is it?'

‘Edward, what on earth …? This is quite a revelation.'

‘I know you didn't want to come in the first place, and I should have listened to you. We have so much more in England. So that's what I've been thinking. Maybe it's time to go home.'

‘Can we? What about your creditors?'

‘The family have come into a little extra money and they've offered to sign it over to me. They're calling it an advance on my inheritance. I think it's a damn decent show of them. I'd like to accept. Will you come with me?'

‘Edward … this is so sudden.'

‘I know. I'm sorry.'

He reached a hand across the gap between their chairs to take hers.

‘I'm very fond of you, Dana. You know that. And I know I am a little abrupt at times. I've learned something about myself since being here — and it's not just that I'm not a farmer. This is a very strange place. We amuse ourselves, I suppose, but we had a good life in England too. I think we could make a new start there. What do you say?'

‘Edward, I … I'm not sure. Can I have a few days to think about it?'

 

It had been an odd night. Edward had been charming and amusing, as he could when he left the whisky in the bottle. His regrets about his behaviour seemed sincere; and now, after many years of her persistently asking that they abandon their pointless quest to make a success of farming in that most unusual of climates, he was now suggesting they should leave. She didn't instantly agree and that was also rather strange. As she lay in bed later that night she wondered why.

Although life in Kenya was comfortable, it was not home. There was nothing about it that reminded her of England unless it was the rare occasion where a glimpse across a misty hillside, with the green grass tinged golden by the dawn, and when the air was still and fresh, brought to mind the moors of the south-west. But five minutes later, when the sun burst from behind the hills with its
characteristic and unseemly haste and laid its hot hand on the skin, the illusion would be lost. Or else what might have been a Dartmoor pony turned out to be a zebra, and spoiled the illusion.

And the sun. It was inescapable. Although she made every attempt to hide from its rays, her skin was as brown as a washer-woman's. It would take months in England for her colour to become suitable for an evening frock. The saving grace was that in the White Highlands it was at least cool on most evenings. She felt quite sure no Englishman could survive at sea level.

Kenya was certainly not home, and quite unsuitable for a normal life. But there was a part of her that would miss that stark landscape with its endless skies and exotic species.

Dana didn't think of herself as a particularly adventurous person, but when she thought of her previous life in England, it seemed quite insipid compared to the frequent clashes with the wildlife that even a colonial life as ordinary as hers involved. There was nothing in England to compare with the thrill of tracking a wounded lion in a thicket. An evening ride on one's own property here might reveal a stalking leopard or an angry young bull elephant or buffalo. A rifle was a more useful component of her accoutrements than a parasol.

She thought of her friends and wondered if she'd miss them, or they her. The fun-loving Polly was closest to her, but Polly had a demon within her that drove her to lengths that might ultimately bring disaster. Her taste for cocaine had tempted her to experiment with heroin. She now went nowhere without her little silver syringe.

Averil was family, but without the wider context of aunts, cousins and other older members, the relationship had no depth. Averil was like a playmate at a birthday party with no adult supervision. The life her group of friends had, sharing each other's partners, was superficially exciting, but she sometimes wondered if they were doing it for the sensual experience or as some form of sexual competition where the winner was the one best able to convince the others that he or she was having the most fun.

From the darkness she heard a soft knock, then her door opened.

‘Dana? Darling? Are you awake?'

‘Yes, Edward. I'm awake.'

‘Sorry … it's just that … I was wondering, if I might, you know …'

‘Come to bed, Edward,' she said, and lifted the sheet on the other side.

He slid in beside her and kissed her gently on the cheek then moved to her lips as he rubbed her midriff and slipped his hand under her nightdress.

Dana tried to put her troublesome thoughts from her mind, but she hadn't been able to resolve all the issues — they threatened to intrude upon the moment.

Edward was becoming excited. He smothered her with kisses and his fingers played gently in her wetness. She reached down to return his caresses.

He was above her and she opened herself to him.

Suddenly, she was suspended high over the Aberdares, but able to see all the details of her bedroom. It was as if she and Edward were characters on stage or in a silent moving picture.

A moment later, Edward rolled from her, breathing heavily, and Dana regained her equilibrium.

Long after Edward had kissed her tenderly and gone to his own bedroom, Dana lay awake, trying to understand what had happened in the moments after Edward had begun to make love to her. The answer had some connection with unresolved thoughts about leaving Kenya. It dangled in the darkness just beyond reach.

She tossed and turned. Distressed and overtired, she used an old trick to bring sleep. She imagined a life in England with Edward, concentrating on feelings of acceptance and support, security and comfort. It didn't work perfectly this time, though; and she finally allowed herself to admit that her distraction — and her indecision about the return home — came from her unresolved feelings for Sam.

 

Dana awoke thinking of Sam. She had been a coward not to tell him about her open marriage. Now she felt she had no way
forward with him; by letting him go without some explanation, he probably felt hurt and believed she had no further interest in him.

She had allowed her remorse to fuel other emotions, like loneliness, so that when Edward had arrived at her bedroom door the previous night she was grateful, and welcomed him into her bed. Making love had always been her escape from feelings of vulnerability, and she knew that Edward understood it, and probably preyed on it. Now she was angry that she had succumbed.

She couldn't blame Edward for her cowardice with Sam. He had stuck to their agreement about avoiding relationships outside the group and believed a new life together back in England was what she wanted. But as the day wore on, Edward became increasingly troublesome. Having broached the subject of going home, he couldn't let it rest. Throughout the day he pestered Dana with a recitation of all the attractions of England and insisting she make her decision.

‘Edward, this is all new to me. You might have been planning it for some time, but you didn't take me into your confidence. As I said last night, I have to think about it.'

‘What's to think about? You're my wife.'

She glared at him. ‘There's the farm. And the horses.'

She hadn't meant to mention the horses. She knew he'd have no sympathy for her desire to overcome the disaster with Dancer by putting her to stud.

‘The horses? The horses!' he raved. ‘What is there to think about? You get rid of them, of course. I don't doubt there are plenty of fools out there dreaming of fame and fortune on the track. That new chap Whiteman, for one.'

‘Edward, for God's sake! Leave me be. I've told you, I need time.'

He stormed off, returning minutes later to announce he had work to do and that he'd be gone for a couple of hours.

Dana was pleased to see him go.

Mary was spending her day off on a visit to family in Naivasha, and the isolation played on Dana's mind. To take her thoughts off it, she decided to organise her wardrobe, which was untidy and had
been annoying her for some time. She found a few garments she thought needed to be discarded, but after half an hour she lost her enthusiasm.

She wandered down the hall and opened the door to what had been Sam's bedroom that night. The darkness suited her mood. She lay on the bed and imagined she was again in his arms, recalling his hands and mouth as he made love to her.

He was only a few miles away. She peeped out the window. A strong wind had arisen, blowing dust and leaves through the barren garden. It was a lonely, dismal sight, but she had to do something with this restlessness — something that kept her from Sam.

She went downstairs and stood at the door. The sky was dark and heavy with cloud. It wasn't the first time the weather had teased her with promises of a break in the doldrums, and was typical of the fickleness of nature at that time of year. The clouds would promise much but deliver nothing for weeks, until one day the heavens would open and the first torrential downpour would bring blessed relief to human and animal alike.

She put aside her misgivings and hurried across the compound — her skirt wrapping around her legs in the wind — to the stable, where she quickly saddled Dancer. She had no intention of travelling far, and Dancer had had little exercise over recent days. She thought the walk would be beneficial to both of them.

When Dana led her from the security of the stable the mare whinnied and shied at the swirling dust devils scampering across the yard.

‘Ssh … easy girl. Settle, my darling,' she cooed to her.

Dana headed the filly to the west, not daring to take the northern road that would lead past the track to the
banda
. Within a few minutes, with Dancer's steady gait taking her mind away from her temptation to be with Sam, she found herself trying to recall the details of her life in England after she had married Edward. It was now so far away in time and space that she had difficulty doing so.

She had lost track of the time and realised she'd come much further than she'd planned. Looking into the sky, she found the
clouds had begun to swirl and billow, black and threatening, high into the heavens.

She was more than halfway to the Banfields' and, recalling that Eliza was home alone, decided to call in for a visit and to take shelter in case the storm actually eventuated.

Immediately she came over the rise on the track leading to Eliza and John's ranch she saw the old Albion parked at the front door of the farm house. She at first thought that Edward had changed his mind and decided to collect the scarifier although John was not at home. Then she saw Eliza's house servant and cook sitting under a tree some distance from the house; as she approached they stood and walked away rather than greet her as they usually would.

Dana's surprise turned to suspicion. She dismounted and walked through the home garden and into the parlour unannounced. The sounds from the bedroom were unmistakeable.

Dana stormed into the room to find Eliza on the bed and her husband between her legs with Eliza's fingers grasping his thinning red hair.

‘Dana!' she spluttered.

Edward turned and simply stared at her.

Dana spun on her heel and left the bedroom without a word.

In the garden she found a pitchfork planted into the soft soil of a flower bed. She took it to the Albion truck and, with all her might, sunk the tines into the front tyre, which gave a very satisfying pop. She then went to the remaining three tyres and within a minute the Albion was sitting on its wheel rims.

 

Dana eased the filly into a fast walk, afraid to strain her stamina too much, but she felt an urgency to climb to the high pastures as quickly as possible. The wind got under the brim of her hat and flung it away. She let it go.

The sky was now the colour of ink, but a thin brilliant stripe along the western horizon gave the tossing grasses an eerie glow.
The wind swirled and tugged at horse and rider. A worrying thought entered her mind. Maybe Sam had become angry with her for her off-handed reception and he'd decided to take the horses onwards to Nairobi without waiting to rest them. She would be stuck alone in the hut until morning. It was a frightening prospect, and she briefly considered turning back, but the hope that he would be there spurred her on.

The sun dropped and in the darkness she had no idea if Dancer was still on the narrow track leading to the hut. There were many stumps and antbear holes across the hills, and she had to trust the horse to find her footing. In spite of her urgency to find the safety of the hut she slowed Dancer's gait to little more than a walk, but the filly was very unsettled, tossing her head and wanting to veer away to the left. Now Dana wished she'd fitted the bit instead of using just the simple noseband.