The Art of Unpacking Your Life (14 page)

Gus continued, though he seemed to be talking more to Sara than anyone else. ‘Most of the time, they use visual signals instead.'

Luke wished that he could communicate like that. Stay speechless and signal his needs. In one generational leap, his father had become an antiquated chauvinist. Dad religiously ate his dinner in silence, before adjusting his worn cushion – the one his mother had embroidered for him when they got married – and settling into his armchair for the night. When his mother had cleared up the kitchen, she would pour him a small whisky on ice. He would then light a cigar from the box on the side table beside him. He would watch one TV programme and then the news, while his mother knitted endless warm jumpers and scarves for Luke and the farm help. Nothing was expected of his father. Not that Luke minded cooking and clearing up. He was rather obsessive about domestic chores. It was relaxing to create order. Yet he envied his father's freedom from emotional demands.

‘Those giraffes are as silent and self-contained as you, Luke,' Julian nudged him, ‘You've finally met your match.'

Luke tried to smile. He avoided eye contact with Julian. He was surprised at how much animosity he still felt towards him. When Connie had taken the train up to London for her first date with Julian, he had spent the day clearing his things out of their room and moving them into the tiny box space at the back of the sitting room. He dealt with his feelings by boxing up anything he had that reminded him of Connie and putting it in the Harley Place loft.

Fifteen feet away from this graceful trio, Gus stopped and turned. ‘Giraffes aren't aggressive. Though they do have a ferocious kick, so we won't get too close. I don't want to disturb them, eh?'

‘Definitely not,' Connie said eagerly.

Luke smiled at her enthusiasm. Luke had been keen to see rhino, lion and buffalo. He had surprised himself with his fascination for these giraffes. They watched their safari guests with mild interest. They were poised with their legs slightly apart, like a catwalk model with an unreadable expression. Luke could imagine them being brought down by a lion and maintaining this dignity. He stood transfixed. He could only vaguely hear Matt and Katherine talking softly at the back.

Gus coughed to keep them on track before speaking more loudly than usual. ‘Giraffes are the tallest and largest ruminants. They're even-toed ungulates.'

‘Watch it, Gus,' Sara said. ‘You are a bit free and easy with ungulates. Translate.'

‘Even toed-hoofed mammals,' he said smiling. ‘Lizzie will be delighted to know that their full name is
Giraffa camelopardalis
because their faces superficially resemble camels. But they are not in the same family, eh. They have more delicate features.'

Gus signalled for them to move forward. Luke shifted to walk with Gus. ‘They are dark, aren't they? I imagined that they would be a lighter shade of brown.'

‘Their markings get darker as they get older. These three are probably about fifteen.'

Before she had started the massage, Luke had vaguely imagined that he might have his first ever fling with Kimberley. She was lean, smooth and toned. Not an ounce of fat. She was an attractive girl for a one-night stand. Not that he had any experience whatsoever of having a fling. He had only slept with three women in his life. After the violence inflicted by Emma, he couldn't imagine exposing his body to anyone.
Anyway, Luke couldn't make himself into the kind of man who could have casual sex with anyone. As her hands worked effectively up his thighs, Luke hadn't thought about sex with Kimberley. He had imagined making love to Connie.

Luke moved to one side ostensibly to take a photo of them together, along with Gus and his gun. Through his lenses, he watched Connie. She was wearing tight pale beige jeans and a flimsy white shirt, which reminded him of that nightie she used to wear. Her features were fine: her button nose, high, thin cheekbones, bright blue eyes and her brown-blond hair, which swept back to the nape of her long neck. He started snapping. He zoomed in, until he framed her from the arch of her neck to the tip of her forehead. He ran the risk of Sara noticing, or worse, Julian. He didn't care.

He quickly took a group photo. It was a great one. He had rarely seen his friends during his marriage to Emma, yet he felt even closer to them now, as if his suffering made his friendships more potent. He wished he could pour his heart out to Matt. Tell him everything about his relationship with Emma.

‘Which particular species of giraffe are they?' Sara said peering out from under her khaki bucket hat. Luke gave her an affectionate tap. She looked like some mad zoologist from an era when women didn't travel independently. She was wearing a safari dress that was expensive and trendy enough to have an unflattering A-line that settled somewhere between her knees and mid calves.

Luke caught Gus looking at Sara intently. Luke wasn't socially astute, but he knew that look. Not that Sara or the others seemed to notice. Sara should come with a warning: approach with extreme care, will bite any stray male.

‘There is only one species of giraffe,' Gus said.

He had taken long enough to answer to give Sara the opportunity Luke knew she loved to question him. ‘Are you positive? I am sure that they said there were nine species on
Inside Nature's Giants
.'

Julian waded in. ‘Apologies for my friend. One minute she's quoting Disney, now it's Channel 4. Please ignore her.'

Luke reluctantly noticed Julian's sensitivity to Gus.

Gus didn't back down. ‘Sara, you are partially right. There's one species but nine subspecies defined by geographical areas. The one here is the South African subspecies. And there are about twelve thousand giraffes left.'

Luke gave Gus a slight wink. ‘You got her there.'

Gus smiled appreciatively, even his smile made Luke think about love.

It was the first Friday night formal dinner at Wills Hall at the end of Freshers' Week. Luke was gawky in black tie with his second-hand academic gown hanging down over it. The first few boys he spotted in the corridor were in suits and ties. He must have misread the brochure. He stood nervously by the door, holding a half-empty beer glass for support. He rarely knew who to approach or what to say, but dressed as he was, he was incapacitated. He moved to stand by the high window and stared glumly into the room. He rallied a little and made a concerted effort to look out for the two boys he had met on his corridor: Daniel and Matthew. They were nowhere to be seen. He felt her first. She touched his hand with hers as she took his glass with her thin, cool fingers. He looked up nervously. He saw his own social anxiety mirrored in her face. It made him smile. She smiled straight back. She was almost as tall as him with impossibly
long thin legs. A bright pink sequinned flapper dress hung off one shoulder blade as if she had carelessly thrown it on. She wasn't exactly wearing her gown. She had pulled it on as far as her elbows as if she couldn't be bothered to get it as far as her shoulders. The material bunched and ruffled along her forearms like a gigantic kimono. ‘I'm Connie,' she took his hand with her free one, which she could just about release from the gown. ‘I don't know anyone except that blond girl. She's called Lizzie.'

She waved at Lizzie's back. He hadn't been able to think of anything to say back. He murmured, ‘Luke.'

‘Luke, mate,' Matthew called loudly across the hall, giving him a vast wave. ‘Hello.'

Luke reluctantly let go of her hand and turned to give him a half-wave back. He fully expected Connie to be gone by the time he turned back round. She wasn't. Connie slipped her hand into his. She stood beside him, waiting for Matthew with Daniel close behind. She didn't say anything. For a moment, Luke worried that she was expecting him to make conversation. He glanced over at her. She stood beside him in silence. He was relieved. He was happy looking at her. She had a delicate face and startling blue eyes that looked out at the hall with the same wonderment he felt.

‘You look smart, Luke.' Matthew reached them in a suit and tie. He eyed Connie. ‘Well, hello. Are you going to introduce me to this babe on your arm?'

Luke blushed. ‘Connie, Matthew.'

Daniel was with them. ‘And Daniel.'

She smiled at them. ‘Hello.'

‘Hello, lovely Luke. I hope we're not interrupting?' Matthew asked.

‘No. Not at all,' Luke said quickly. He was sure his feelings were best kept in his head.

He sensed his mistake. She let go of his hand. He watched silently in horror as she made her excuses to Matthew and Daniel and pushed through the thick crowd away from him.

‘Oh God, mate I'm sorry. We've botched that up for you,' Matthew moaned.

Luke tried to wave away his concerns. He couldn't speak.

‘She looked keen,' Daniel insisted. ‘She is beautiful.'

‘Sexy too,' Matthew added.

Luke mumbled back, ‘I don't think so.'

‘What? You don't think she's attractive?' Matthew looked amazed.

‘No, I mean…' What did he mean? ‘Not my type.' What was he talking about? He hadn't had a girlfriend. How could he have a type? If he did, she would be exactly like Connie, down to the height of her collarbones.

He looked to see where she was in the room. It wasn't hard to spot her. She was taller than most of the girls in the room, a beacon of vibrant pink.

‘I can't believe it. The pair of you,' Matthew was exclaiming enviously, ‘Daniel here has already been asked out. Can you believe it?' He gesticulated at a small girl with long dark hair.

‘Lucky you,' Luke said, nudging Daniel warmly. He risked looking up again. She had her back to him. He reached for his drink, but realised that he had given it to Connie, or rather she had taken it.

‘What about you, Matthew? Any girl caught your eye?' Luke diverted the attention away from himself.

‘Oh, there are so many pretty girls here… I have to say I'm rather overwhelmed. Too much choice.' Matthew murmured. He was starting to sweat around the collar of his shirt.

‘Exactly. Too early to choose.' He took another slug and passed it to Matthew.

People started to sit down at the long tables, which didn't have a table plan, unlike the High Table.

Matthew and Daniel led the way. Luke followed. They settled down into the L-shape of one corner with Daniel in the middle.

‘Are these seats taken?' Lizzie asked. Connie stood behind her with another girl.

‘No, no. We would be delighted,' Matthew urged. ‘I'm Matthew.'

‘Lizzie,' she smiled running her hand through her hair. ‘Oh, and Sara and Connie.'

‘We've met Connie,' Matthew insisted. ‘Sara, hello. Haven't I seen you somewhere? Are you reading law?'

‘Smart, you are,' Sara had smiled. ‘How are you finding it?' She sat down next to Matt.

Luke looked down as Daniel got up. ‘Why don't one of you sit between Matthew and Luke? I'll come round the other side.'

Lizzie moved round and Connie sat down next to Daniel, across the table from Luke.

He tried hard to think of something to say to Lizzie. ‘What are you reading?'

‘English. I absolutely love it. It's fantastic.' Lizzie smiled encouragingly. ‘What about you, Luke?'

‘History.' He tried to think of something witty to say about it, but he couldn't.

‘Connie's reading history.'

His stomach lurched.

‘Connie,' Lizzie called across the table. Connie looked up at her. ‘Luke's reading history.'

‘Really.' She didn't look at him, but added calmly. ‘Daniel is reading English.'

‘Goodness, really? Let's swop places, can we? No offence.'

Neither Luke or Connie moved or spoke, but Lizzie had enough momentum for all four of them. She squeezed one leg and then the other out and off the bench and moved round to Connie's place next to Daniel. Luke fully expected Connie to object. She looked at Lizzie for a moment and then silently got up.

She glided round to the space between Matt and Luke. He tried to make as much room for her as possible, pressing against the person on his other side. She didn't need it, even with Matt on her other side. She slid gracefully on to the bench. Neither of them spoke.

Connie moved his glass back in front of him. ‘Sorry, I took it.'

There were fresh ones on the table in front of them. Luke had no idea what to say. ‘No problem. I've got more upstairs.'

She paused, ‘Well, then. I'll keep it.'

He risked glancing at her. She wasn't smiling.

‘Please do.'

He couldn't keep the concern out of his voice. He was doing this all wrong. Connie's blue eyes rested on him for too long. She didn't appear to be uncomfortable. He looked straight back at her. He didn't know what to say. He simply reached for the hand nearest his on the bench. He slid his hand on top of hers. Her hand moved out from underneath. She lightly brushed her fingers against his. Luke captured her whole hand, trying to hold it without squeezing it. The feeling of her fingers gave him the most intense sense of belonging.

He wasn't wrong. She stayed holding his hand for three years.

Gus's commentary was a loud TV in the corner of the room. Matt didn't want to listen, but a few facts struck him, however reluctantly. African buffalo killed around two hundred people a year. Hence their nickname: ‘Black Death'. They were highly unpredictable, prone to charging. How great to get away with being that high maintenance. There was no political correctness in the Kalahari. It was okay to be a sexually dominant male throwing your weight around, and then roaming off in a petulant sulk behind an acacia tree. The African equivalent of hiding in your ‘cave'.

The lone male buffalo's sullen brown flesh partially camouflaged him. Blessed with a body crushing any Seca scales at a gravity-defying nine hundred kilos, he couldn't exactly hide behind an acacia tree. Like a Welsh rugby player from the seventies, this beast was all body with no neck and drooping cauliflower ears. He might be mistaken for a farm bull, if it weren't for his horns. He was a mature bloke, according to Gus, hence one metre and sixty centimetres of horn, meeting above its eyes in a barnacled cliff of bone called the ‘boss'. It used this ugly eyesore to head butt sexual opponents, sometimes inflicting critical carnage.