Shifting Sands (8 page)

The wake-up call came at five o'clock, and they collected their packed breakfasts en route for the coach. Wendy smiled at Anna and patted her arm as they boarded, making her wonder if Lewis had reported developments, but it was too early for conversation, and many of the group seemed still half asleep.

They reached Kruger National Park at seven o'clock, and another magical day began, filled with an abundance of birds and animals for their cameras to capture. When they paused for a sandwich lunch, the temperature had climbed to 38°, and they were grateful of the chance to replenish the water bottles they carried with them. Feeding the blue starlings with crumbs, Anna thought back to the red-winged variety at the Cape of Good Hope, the first day she'd spent with Lewis and the Salters. How long ago it seemed!

They left the Park at three thirty, eight and a half hours after arriving, though it seemed much less. On reaching their hotel, several of them walked down to the river to take photographs, and Anna found Lewis at her side.

‘Alone at last!' he declared, with mock fervour.

Anna smiled. ‘Hardly!' She gestured at the members of the group all around them, chatting, taking photos, walking along the bank.

‘At least we can talk without being overheard. I can't tell you what a relief it was to hear your decision last night.' He smiled wryly. ‘I'm not used to having to wait for answers!'

‘To take-over bids?' she teased.

He laughed. ‘Scarcely that. God, Anna, I want to climb on the nearest rock and announce it to the world!'

She laid a quick hand on his arm. ‘But of course you won't.'

He looked down at her, sobering. ‘Well, not literally, no.'

‘Seriously, Lewis, I don't want anyone to know. Not yet.'

But know what? she thought suddenly. Was he thinking long-term, or was it only sex he wanted? What exactly was he asking her to commit to, and for that matter, what did
she
want?

He was frowning, and she added tentatively, ‘Do Wendy and George . . .?'

‘I've not said anything, if that's what you mean, but I was certainly planning to, when we were all together.'

‘I'd . . . be grateful if you didn't.'

‘Why the hell not?'

‘I'd like to wait at least till after the anniversary of my husband's death in November.'

There was a silence between them, while extraneous sounds continued to bombard them – the call of a bird across the water, laughter among one of the groups, a plane flying overhead. Then he said flatly, ‘Of course. Stupid of me.'

‘No, no it isn't,' she said quickly. ‘It's just—'

‘It's all right, Anna; I understand.'

But did he? she thought miserably.

‘I'm sorry,' she said, and he nodded absently, gazing across the river as though his thoughts had already moved on. Was this how it would be between them, a walking on eggshells?

She felt suddenly close to tears. ‘I think I'll go and have a shower before dinner,' she said, and, when his only reply was another nod, she turned and made her way quickly up the slope to the hotel.

Perhaps it was only in her imagination that dinner was difficult. Certainly, Wendy and George appeared to notice nothing amiss. She managed to keep up light, inconsequential chat, and if Lewis seemed quiet, this wasn't altogether unusual. Over the weeks, Wendy had referred several times to his ‘moods'. ‘Just ignore him!' she'd advised laughingly. ‘He'll snap out of it!'

They were due to leave for Pretoria in the morning. ‘It'll be the last full day of the holiday,' Wendy remarked sadly. ‘I'll hate leaving South Africa, but we must all at least keep in touch.'

Anna's smile felt strained. ‘Of course,' she said.

‘Didn't you say you live in Westbridge? We're in Richmond, and Lewis is near Beechford, so we're within easy reach of each other. We must exchange email addresses.'

‘You'll have to watch her!' George warned. ‘She's never happy unless she's organizing something. Give her half a chance, and she'll be running your life for you!'

After the meal they had coffee together in the lounge, then Anna excused herself. ‘I'd like to get most of the packing done tonight,' she explained. ‘I'm not at my best at six in the morning!'

So yet again she was on a see-saw, she thought wryly as she made her way upstairs. Perhaps, after all, it was as well the holiday was coming to an end.

Lewis was sitting with George when Anna boarded the coach the next morning, and she perforce joined Wendy, unsure if she was relieved or disappointed.

‘Another long drive ahead of us,' Wendy commented. ‘It makes you realize how small the UK is, doesn't it? Have you been keeping up your notes for your friend?'

Anna realized guiltily that, for the last week or more, the thought of Beatrice had never entered her head. ‘I've been keeping a diary of sorts,' she said evasively, ‘and the photos will help fill in the gaps.'

Suppose Beatrice had been with her: would Lewis still have made his move?

Pretoria, when they reached it, was awash with purple jacaranda trees laden with blossom seeming to line every street. Edda drew their attention to the magnificent government buildings, replicas of those in Cape Town, and the duplicate statue of Castor and Pollox shaking hands, symbolising peace at last between the British and the Boers.

After lunch they went on a tour of the city, Edda enlarging on historical details she'd already given them, until Anna's head was swimming with facts and dates. It was after five when they finally checked into their hotel, and, hoping for a few minutes' relaxation, she lay on the bed and promptly fell asleep.

To her consternation, it was an hour later when she awoke, and time to prepare for the evening ahead. Standing under the reviving shower, she realized, with a mixture of feelings, that she'd not exchanged one word with Lewis all day.

It was to be their Farewell Dinner. Everyone gathered in the bar as usual, and several members of the group began exchanging email addresses, though Anna doubted if, once back in their normal routines, they'd bother to get in touch. Lewis was at the far end of the bar, seemingly being talked at by David Lincoln, known for liking the sound of his own voice.

‘A word of warning,' Wendy murmured, sotto voce. ‘Lewis is in one of his moods. He had a stand-up row in reception, over the delay in his case being brought to his room. I pretended not to be with him!'

Anna was silent, wondering guiltily if she were responsible for his bad humour.

‘George says he was pretty uncommunicative all day,' Wendy continued. ‘Trouble is, once a mood gets hold, it can take him days to shake it off. It must make him hell to live with. Fond of him as I am, I do wonder how Myrtle put up with him.'

‘I thought you said it was she who was difficult to live with?' Anna reminded her, increasingly uneasy.

Wendy shrugged. ‘Six of one and half a dozen of the other, I suppose. I know for a fact they had the most spectacular rows. Still,' she added, belatedly realizing she might have spoken out of turn, ‘I'm sure he'll have mellowed with age!'

Since this was their last night, all twenty-two of them were seated at one long table, with Edda at its head, and the meal was punctuated by people repeatedly jumping up from their chairs to take photographs. Having escaped from David, Lewis was seated between Anna and Wendy, but his mood did not appear to have lightened, and he made little attempt at conversation. Adopting Wendy's advice of leaving him to get over it, Anna chatted to Harry Bell on her left and the couple directly opposite.

Mellowed by pre-dinner drinks and several glasses of wine, her eyes drifted round the table. She'd come to know quite a few of her companions over the last two and a half weeks, and felt a general fondness for them all, coupled with mild regret that she wouldn't be seeing them again. Even Jean, of the loud voice and decided opinions, had melded into the group, and seemed the happier for it.

Anna was brought out of her reverie by Lewis's raised voice. ‘I can't eat this!' he was telling the waiter standing behind him. ‘It's cold, and the vegetables are raw. Take it away and bring me something edible.'

There was a lull in conversation as heads strained to see what was happening. Anna kept her eyes firmly on her own plate as the unhappy waiter complied, and, a little hesitantly, everyone resumed eating, while Lewis stared at the empty space in front of him. Minutes later, another plate was put before him with a murmured apology.

However, after trying it, he again pushed it away. ‘That's no better! Where's the head waiter?'

‘Please don't make a scene, Lewis!' Wendy murmured.

‘Let me handle this,' he replied curtly. ‘It's a four-star hotel, for God's sake. They should know how food ought to be served.'

The head waiter materialized, soothing words were spoken in an undertone, and within minutes a third plate of food was produced, which, to the relief of everyone, appeared to be satisfactory. Normal service is resumed, Anna thought.

The meal wore on, and her earlier mellowness merged into a vague sadness, imagining the days ahead, the large, empty house awaiting her, and the ongoing problems with Jonathan and Vicky. No more African sunshine – it would soon be winter in the UK, with short, cold days and long, cold nights. They seemed to have been away far longer than seventeen days.

Lewis did at least speak to her as the meal progressed, and she wondered if he regretted his outburst. Probably not, since it seemed he was prone to them. As things stood, she reflected, their relationship – if it could be called such – looked unlikely to survive the next twenty-four hours, degenerating into the mildly derided category of holiday romance. And after Wendy's revealing comments, perhaps that was just as well.

Coffee was served, Lewis receiving a complimentary brandy with his, and someone made a short speech, thanking Edda for making the holiday so enjoyable and ending in a toast. In reply, Edda assured them they'd been a wonderful group and reminded them they still had the best part of a day left. Johannesburg being a mere thirty-five miles away, they could have a much-needed lie-in, and the morning was free to look round Pretoria in their own time and do some last-minute shopping. They'd be leaving for Jo'burg after lunch.

It was time to disperse. Small groups formed for last photographs, and people began to drift away. Leaving Lewis and George talking to the Bells, Anna and Wendy excused themselves and took the lift to their rooms, Anna emerging at the first floor and Wendy going on to the third.

Anna felt in her bag for her key and, rounding a corner, almost collided with the young couple, Tony and Shelley, locked in an embrace. They seemed oblivious to her, and she hurried on, a lump in her throat. How did the song go?
Don't cry, young lovers, whatever you do, don't cry because I'm alone.
And something about having had a love of one's own. As she had, she thought, oh, she had! She was overwhelmed by a wave of longing for Miles, for, above all, the reassurance of being loved and wanted.

Eyes blurred by tears, she let herself into her room, roundly cursing herself for a fool. She'd come away to put her grief into perspective, she reminded herself. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that perspective would include another man.

Her open case, from which she'd extracted only what was needed for that evening, stood on the luggage rack. She stepped out of her dress, folded it between layers of tissue paper, and laid it on top, adding her evening bag and sandals. The maid had turned down the bed, and her nightdress lay draped across the pillows. She slipped it on and, going over to the dressing table, started to brush her hair. Her last night in Africa, she thought; this time tomorrow, she'd be on the overnight flight, the following one in her own bed at home.

She went through to the bathroom, her mind busily darting from one subject to another, rather than winding down to the required sleep mode. No doubt the coffee was responsible, since with all that was going on, she'd forgotten to ask for decaffeinated. But it was essential she should sleep, she thought worriedly, because she certainly wouldn't on the plane home.

Returning to the bedroom, she drank a glass of the bottled water provided and glanced half-heartedly at her notebook. Since she didn't feel tired, perhaps she should try to bring it up to date. She was about to pick it up when a tap on the door startled her.

Wendy? she wondered, in bewilderment. Edda, about a change in the arrangements? But surely not at – she glanced at her bedside clock – twelve thirty? She looked round quickly for her dressing gown, before remembering she'd not bothered to unpack it and it was somewhere in the depths of her case.

The tap sounded again. A little apprehensively, she walked across the room and looked through the peephole. Lewis's face, distorted by the glass, swam into view, clogging the breath in her throat. Very slowly she opened the door, registering that he was wearing a silk dressing-gown in dark red. For a heart-stopping moment they stared at each other. Then she moved to one side and he came into the room.

FIVE

A
fter various delays, it was almost eleven before the flight took off, and Anna looked out of the window to catch a final glimpse of the lights of Johannesburg spread out below them. She was sharing a row with Charles and Jenny Ward, whom she'd not seen very much of during the holiday. Lewis and the Salters were about six rows behind her.

Lewis! She still couldn't get her head round what had happened the previous night. Coming as it did just as she'd decided they were going nowhere, she'd been caught unawares, swept up in and fully responding to the passion of his love-making. The final act of betrayal. How could she hope to explain it to her son and daughter?