A Pride of Lions (9 page)

Janice looked up from her camera. “Hullo,” she drawled, and pushed her fair hair out of her eyes with one hand. “I hope you were properly flattered by Hugo’s invitation to tea?”

I laughed. “I was, as a matter of fact,” I said.

“But you enjoyed it?”

“I liked his animals,” I hedged.

Her eyes mocked me. “Is that all? Perhaps that is what Hugo meant—”

“Meant by what?” I asked indignantly.

She smiled and shrugged. “He’s the complete bachelor, isn’t he? You know, I wasn’t trying to mislead you by saying that he only allowed
me
to visit his animals. What I meant was that he feels safe with me. Evidently he feels safe with you too!”

“Safe?”
I repeated.

“Why not?” she grunted. “You’re not hoping for a less platonic relationship, are you?”

Her amusement made me blush. “No!” I said faintly.

She turned her attention to her camera. “I thought not,” she said, a thread of laughter running through her voice. “We’ll have to make do with competing for the attention of Hans Doffnang, where I have to admit you have a head start by being able to speak his language.”

“Er—yes,” I said, even more faintly.

“The idea doesn’t appeal to you?” she asked.

“N—no,” I admitted.

“Perhaps you prefer Johnny?”

I gathered together my scattered wits. “I don’t think I’m entering the lists at all,” I said.

She sighed, smiling with a total friendliness that was very appealing, even to me. “How dull! Never mind, I expect you know best what you’re about. Could you move a little? You’re frightening the birds.”

I hurried on to my tent and left her to it. I felt oddly deflated by her remarks. The truth was that Hugo Canning filled my horizons whenever I was near to him.

I could conjure up at will the line of his jaw and the way it sat on his strong, masculine neck. Or the slight flare of his nostrils when he was thinking. Or even the way his eyes crinkled when he looked into the sun. It wasn’t something I had wanted to happen! It even frightened me when I thought about it, how aware I was of every detail of the way he looked, when other, nicer men made little or no impression on me at all.

Did Janice know that he was a confirmed bachelor? She might have been only guessing, for I was pretty sure that Hugo knew exactly what effect he had on the females with whom he came in contact. And he was far too normal not to enjoy the flutter he caused in many a female breast. But it was disturbing all the same to feel myself plunging deeper and deeper into the mire of his attraction when all it could possibly bring me was heartache and regret. I was not such a fool as to think that Clare deJong was going to bowl him over as easily as he had her!

On the other hand, I was enough of a fool to dress with particular care for my Sunday treat. I had never seen Johnny’s aeroplane, so I had no idea how big it was, but I was reasonably sure that my tailored trousers and the neat cream shirt that went over them were both suitable and good to look at. I couldn’t see what I looked like very well in the one looking-glass that my tent boasted, but I felt comfortable and I kept telling myself that it didn’t really matter what Hugo thought anyway.

Johnny had already had his breakfast and was working on the aeroplane when I went along for my own. Only Mr. Doffnang was at the table, avidly reading one of the paperback thrillers he had brought with him. He looked up as I entered and waved a friendly hand.

“So today you go to count the lions,
ja?”
he said politely, hardly looking up from the printed page.

“Yes,” I agreed with barely suppressed excitement. “It couldn’t be a better day for it, could it? Don’t you think the whole world is beautiful today?”

He gave me a look of sympathy. “Do you like to fly so much?” he asked.

I hesitated. “I don’t know,” I said at last.

“Well, well, enjoy yourself!” he muttered. He looked up and his whole expression changed to one of complete disapproval. I turned to see what he was looking at and saw that Janice had come into the
boma.
She was smiling straight at the Dutchman, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Goode morgen, meneer,”
she said sweetly.

Hans Doffnang was completely stunned. “Does she learn Dutch now?” he demanded of me.

I stared at Janice, who was plainly enjoying the sensation she had caused.

“Are you learning Dutch?” I asked her abruptly.

“Why not?” she smiled, and shrugged her shoulders indifferently. “He complains whatever I do,” she said.

“What does she say?” Mr. Doffnang shot at me.

I managed a fairly tactful translation which did nothing to improve his temper. He sat and glared at Janice across the table. “I am not complaining!” he snorted. “Why does she say good morning in Dutch?”

Janice looked more amused than ever. “Why is he so annoyed?” she countered.

Mr. Doffnang thumped the table with his fist. “I will have nothing to do with her!”

Janice laughed, delighted. She leaned across the table, helping herself to a piece of toast which she slowly buttered and spread with marmalade. “It’s my good manners that made me address him in his own language,” she mused thoughtfully. “How does he reconcile that with the immodest vision that he has of me? He might even learn enough English to wish me good morning in
my
language!” she added, challenging him deliberately by arranging her hair across her cheek and grinning at him through it.

They stared at each other with mutual anger, forgetting all about me. Janice wasn’t wasting much time, I thought. But I could have wished that she didn’t go out of her way to annoy Hans Doffnang. He was so vulnerable to her jibes and he was such a nice man that I didn’t relish his being hurt.

Relief came in the form of Hugo. He had already had breakfast, but the sight of us eating made him want some more coffee. He sat down at the head of the table, allowing Janice to pour him out a cup of the boiling liquid and fuss over his comfort and whether he had enough sugar and cream.

“You spoil me!” he teased her.

“I like to,” she answered lightly. “It’s a more rewarding occupation than any other I’ve attempted this morning!”

Hugo set his jaw thoughtfully. “What’s the matter? You can’t complain of the light today! ”

She hunched up her shoulders, looking faintly sulky.

“Don’t you ever think of anything else but work?” she demanded.

Hugo grinned. “Not often,” he admitted. His eyes met mine, taking in my neat cream shirt with quick appreciation. “Talking about work, we’d better join Johnny on the strip before Karibu realises that she’s going to have to do without your society for the day! Are you ready?”

I jumped eagerly to my feet. “I suppose you fly often?” I hazarded, hoping to hide from him my own state of nervous excitement at the thought of roaring through the heavens in Johnny’s bi-plane.

“Often,” he agreed. I wasn’t bluffing him one bit. “Johnny is an excellent pilot. You don’t have to worry.”

“I’m looking forward to it!” I said.

The airstrip was on the other side of the rocky outcrop. The bush had been cleared away and the exposed red earth had been beaten down into a hard surface. At one end a weather sausage dangled at the top of a pole beside the distinctive flag of Kenya with its shield and crossed spears in the centre of the black, red and green stripes. The rain of the day before had already been swallowed up by the greedy earth. Indeed, it might never have fallen there at all, if it were not for the bright green of the surrounding grass and the belts of wild flowers struggling for life wherever they could find a foothold.

Johnny had a small office in a ramshackle corrugated shed at one end of the strip. It was surprisingly tidy inside. The papers on the desk were all in neat piles and the radio was clean and well cared for. Behind the desk sat a tiny African figure, neatly clad in the uniform of the Parks’ wardens. He was little taller than a dwarf, but when I looked at him more closely, I could see he was an old man with grizzled hair and large sad eyes.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to get kitted up before we go out to the plane,” Johnny told me. He was more serious when he was working, I noticed. He pointed towards a selection of airmen’s helmets for me to take my choice. He himself was already dressed in clothes that looked to me as if they had come straight out of the war. He even had some goggles dangling round his neck and these I rather envied him, for the glare off the land was much stronger than I liked.

Hugo busied himself with the radio. The static was appalling, but once he had managed to clear the line he received an answering call from the various other stations all over the gigantic area of Tsavo.

‘You’re going to have a lion count at Aruba, right?” a crisp voice came over the air.

“Affirmative,” Hugo replied. “When I came through there the other day there were about a dozen there. Yesterday the
askari
there counted more than twenty. If they’re still coming in, we’ll have to do something to split them up.”

“What’s the attraction?” the crisp voice asked.

“There’s a male there,” Hugo said dryly. “We caught a glimpse of him. The most splendid brute I’ve ever seen. I should hate anything to happen to him.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

“I thought that if they don’t split up naturally, we might anaesthetise some of them and move them across country—”

“It won’t take them long to walk back.”

“They might not want to,” Hugo said hopefully.

There was a grunt from the other end of the radio. “I wish you luck!” the voice said. “I don’t think it will work, but I can’t suggest anything better. If you want any help, say the word!”

“I will,” Hugo promised. “Over and out.”

“Out,” said the voice. The radio went dead and then the static began again until Hugo turned the radio off. There was a moment’s silence in the shed, then Hugo shrugged his shoulders and laughed without humour.

“He’s not very optimistic, is he?” he commented briefly. “Well, come on, let’s away!”

We walked across the airstrip to where the small bi-plane was waiting for us. The
askari
came with us, carrying a large box to help us climb into the tiny cockpit. Hugo went first, dragging me after him as I almost missed my footing. He pushed me towards a narrow seat and strapped me firmly in despite my indignant protests that I could manage quite well by myself.

I was rather unnerved to discover that Hugo intended sharing my seat with me. By the time he had strapped himself in we were so close to one another that every time he took a breath I could feel the slight movement beside me.

“You look cosy!” Johnny teased us as he stepped into his own seat.

“I feel crushed!” I retorted.

“A very suitable sentiment,” Hugo put in.

I took a deep breath. “If it were only a sentiment—”

He laughed. “What else?”

“A physical fact!” I snorted.

He gave me a look that made me tremble. “A rather nice physical fact,” he said in my ear.

Whatever he may have intended, he certainly diverted my attention from our take-off. It seemed to me that one moment we were on the ground, with the
askari
waving us off, and the next we were high in the sky, but how we got there I really couldn’t say! Once up, however, there seemed very little to be afraid of. As I looked out, I could see the sun glinting off our silver wings, and below the timeless land, a land so old that it may have been here that man sprang into being, a land old enough to live in mysterious contentment with itself. Below were the animals that had once walked the whole continent. They had lost the battle for survival almost everywhere, but here the mighty elephant still lived in freedom, and the lion, once feared as far away as China where it had never even been seen, was still king here.

It was strange to me to watch our dancing shadow as it fell on the ground below, a small black shape in the midst of a bleached world that was only now turning green again. The elephants were easy to see. It was less easy to spot giraffes, unless they took fright and ran with their distinctive, loping action. Then, suddenly, I began to see more and more. Where everything had appeared empty, I could now see teeming life. Herds of zebra ran, sometimes with elands, and sometimes with wildebeestes or gnus, as if they were afraid to be alone with only their own kind to support them. There is something particularly satisfying about watching zebras. No matter how hard the conditions, there they are, their fat buttocks as well covered as when the feed is plentiful and green.

We could see the artificial lake at Aruba almost immediately. The bright green of the well-watered trees that edged the lake shone out like a beacon. The lions had chosen a good place, I thought. A place that one might have chosen oneself, close to water and with enough long grass to give good cover when they were hunting the animals that came to the lake to drink.

“Do you want to fly over first?” Johnny asked through the intercom.

“Try it once or twice,” Hugo directed. “I want to take a good look round before we actually begin the count.”