A Wedding in Africa (The Africa Series) (16 page)

An image of a handsome young lad, with a shock of blond hair flecked with red-gold streaks, flashed into her mind. He was laughing, diving into the waves that lapped at the sandy beach beside their home. Their mother was calling to them to come in for lunch. Michael emerged from the water, dripping wet, young and strong and healthy with his whole life before him. He flicked a towel at his older sister then ran off, taunting her until she gave chase and they collapsed in a heap of giggles in the middle of the lawn.

Were they close, Mrs Du Preez had asked. Lacey squeezed her eyes shut to blot out the happy images of a carefree childhood. Yes, she and Michael were close. Very close. But that was a long time ago.

CHAPTER TEN

Away from the house, at the edge of Matshana’s manicured gardens, there was a gate that led out into the vast open plains of the lowveld. Lacey opened the gate and stepped out into the wild African landscape.

She knew she shouldn’t really go wandering about dangerous predators roamed freely in the bush - but she needed to get away from people right now. High above her, the scorching sun blazed against a clear, blue sky. The midday sun. Not exactly the best time to go walking. But she had a flask of water clipped to her belt and she was used to the soaring heat. She’d be okay, physically. But emotionally? Now that was a different story. Emotionally, she was still reeling from Mrs Du Preez’s revelations at the party last night.

Tate married! It didn’t seem possible, yet she couldn’t deny how easily things slotted into place now. She felt so sorry for his poor wife Miranda, wasn’t it? Just imagine finding out that you’d been betrayed by your husband – and that another woman was carrying his baby! At least Miranda’s brother-in-law had been there to help. How she must have counted on Gareth’s support at that terrible time.

And now, blissfully unaware of the treachery behind his very existence, little Themba was forced to live out his life never knowing who his father really was. How could Tate do that to a child? His own son? How could he just stand by and let Nandi and Themba bear the secret of his own shameful behaviour? Did he really think that paying for the boy to go to a posh school made up for the lack of a father figure in his life? Was Tate really that thoughtless and selfish? Couldn’t he see that having a son was a privilege? Any other man would be proud to acknowledge Themba as his own. It was disgraceful that Tate didn’t have the decency, or the courage, to do the same.

But then there was a lot about Tate Maddox that made her blood boil. She still seethed at the thought of Nandi and Thomas working impossible hours just to get those wretched lodges finished on time. And what was it Mrs Du Preez had said? She took comfort in the fact that only “top drawer” people would be able to afford to stay in them. How awful was that? People like Thomas and Nandi, who’d slogged away for months on those blasted lodges, wouldn’t be allowed enjoy any of the benefits. All the income raised by their hard work would simply go to swell Tate’s already bulging coffers.

But, in spite of his many faults, everyone loved Tate. Men respected and admired him; liked him as a friend. And the women – well, she knew from bitter experience how easily a woman could fall for a man like Tate Maddox.

Lacey paused to open her bottle of water and take in the vast expanse of golden savannah that now seemed to encircle her. She’d walked so far that the house was a distant speck on the horizon. It was easy to lose yourself in the wide open expanse. Easy to escape from all the hurt and worry. Not a bit like Cape Town with its relentless round of gossip and intrigue. Only here, in the vast, isolated Sabie Valley, with only birds and wild animals for company, could Lacey truly be at peace.

She’d been following a well-trodden path, but was so lost in thought that she didn’t realise she’d actually stepped off the main track and was now following one of the unpredictable animal trails into the heart of the bush. Ahead, she could see a clutch of massive granite boulders clustered round a magnificent old fig tree. It would provide a welcome shade from the heat. She’d rest up there for a while before heading back to the house.

Not that she wanted to go back to the house. Not yet. In fact, the mere thought of making idle chit-chat with Tate filled her with horror. And yet he wasn’t all bad, was he? He was also gentle and thoughtful and kind. He made her laugh, made her think, made her feel like a million dollars. But wasn’t that exactly how Tilly felt, too?

Looking back on their conversation at the party, Lacey couldn’t help but admire Tilly for accepting her place in Tate’s life; selflessly and generously putting Tate’s happiness before her own. It reassuring to learn that Tilly didn’t feel diminished just because her feelings for Tate weren’t reciprocated. As far as Tilly was concerned, Tate was her friend, and she wouldn’t let anything affect that friendship. Even so, Lacey had been astonished to learn that, for some unknown reason, Tilly seemed to think that she, Lacey, held the key to Tate’s happiness.

Lacey pushed her way through the long grasses to the
kopje
, carefully stepping over the rocks that had broken away from the mighty boulders. There was something about Tate Maddox that inspired unwavering love and loyalty in everyone who knew him. It was quite bizarre. No wonder Mrs Du Preez was so keen to secure him as a son-in-law. What a catch. Looking back on that weird conversation, Lacey could actually chuckle about it now. To be fair, Mrs Du Preez was only doing what any other mother would do for her daughter. She was trying to protect her daughter’s best interests the only way she knew how.

It was exactly what Lacey’s own mother would have done for her. If she’d still been alive.

But her darling mother wasn’t alive, was she? She was dead. Along with Michael - Lacey’s younger brother. And Lacey had been responsible for their deaths. She’d killed her own mother and her beloved brother, Michael. She knew she was the one to blame for their deaths. Her father knew it. Everyone knew it. And Lacey would never,
ever
forgive herself for that one, dreadful mistake.

Michael had wanted to drive his mother’s plush new car on that fateful day three years ago, but Lacey had been promised first go at the wheel of the impressive vehicle. Specially shipped over from Germany, it was a sleek silver machine kitted out with all the latest gadgets, and it would be a dream to drive. In the end, rather than fall out with her brother, Lacey had reluctantly given him the keys. True to form, Michael had then felt guilty for upsetting her. He suggested they toss for it.

Shaking her head in despair at this playful sibling rivalry, their mother sat in the passenger seat and waited for the issue to resolve itself with the toss of a coin. Within minutes, the driver’s door was flung open and a triumphant Lacey took her place behind the wheel. Grinning, but gracious as ever in defeat, Michael climbed into the back.

The rains had come early that year and the roads were awash. Overhead, heavy black clouds filled the sky - dark and menacing. Winds howled across the landscape bending trees and whipping up fallen leaves and branches as they raged.

‘Not the best day for a drive,’ their mother had remarked. ‘I love driving in the rain,’ Michael had countered from the back seat. ‘Let me know if you need me to take over, sis!’

 

‘Thank you for your consideration, Michael, but I’m quite capable of driving this divine machine all by myself.’

 

‘It’s only a shower, anyway,’ Michael teased. ‘Even a monkey could drive through this!’

‘Hardly a shower,’ their mother warned, surreptitiously clinging on to the sides of her seat. ‘These winds are terrible. Do drive slowly, darling. Some of these bends can be treacherous.’

‘That’s right! Make sure you drive nice and slowly, Lace. Mum doesn’t want her “divine machine” trashed because of your inadequate driving skills!’

‘Mu-um!’ Lacey wailed. ‘He’s being mean!’

Although both in their twenties, Michael and Lacey had never grown out of their childish, playful banter. Only these days, according to their long-suffering mother, it took more than the promise of a toffee apple to appease them. Now, it took an expensive piece of German engineering to resolve the dispute!

‘Lacey’s right, Michael. Do be quiet, darling, so that your sister can concentrate on the road. We don’t want to crash the car on its first outing, do we?’

Michael groaned in the back seat and flipped a rude sign at Lacey in the driver’s mirror. Just for a second, Lacey took her eyes off the road to deliver a haughty, contemptuous smirk at her brother…

And that was all it took.

A truck was heading towards them on the opposite side of the road. It took the sharp bend far too quickly. The caravan it was towing skidded on the tarmac, spinning crazily at right angles to the tow truck.

A few seconds earlier and Lacey might have been able to avoid it, but she’d already lost that time gloating over her brother. She flung the steering wheel to one side, then slammed on the brakes, but the car smashed into the side of the caravan. It spun out of control then skidded down the steep slope at the side of the road. The car turned over and over, metal crashing and screeching, glass shattering, before it came to rest among the trees.

And all that Lacey heard before she passed out was the terrifying sound of a single scream beside her, and strange moans coming from the back of the car. Then came the darkness. A safe, warm, comforting darkness.

‘You mustn’t blame yourself,’ family and friends had said.

‘The other driver was a maniac,’ Jasper had growled through his tears. ‘He was travelling way too fast. They never stood a chance in hell of avoiding that caravan.’

‘Thank God you came out of it alive,’ her grandmother had cried. ‘I don’t think I could’ve borne it if I’d lost my only daughter and
both
my grandchildren in the accident. At least we still have you, Lacey darling. And your father will need you to be strong now. We’ll get through this together I’m sure.’

But, even now, even out here in the beautiful Sabie Valley, Lacey knew that she still hadn’t managed to get over it completely. If only she’d let Michael drive the car; if only she hadn’t taken her eyes off the road to gloat; if only
she’d
been the one to die instead of Michael…

But it hadn’t worked out like that. Because of her, her mother and brother were dead. Because of her, her father had lost his beloved son and the heir to the Van der Zyl publishing empire. How the hell could she live with that?

She’d tried to fill Michael’s shoes, but she couldn’t really match up to her brother who loved all the wheeling and dealing with his dad. Michael and Jasper had been inseparable. Tennis, cricket, snooker, sailing – you name it, they did it together. And they were a formidable team in the world of big business, too. No-one dared cross the Van der Zyls. Everyone knew who called the shots in Cape Town.

How the hell could she ever have hoped to live up to that? How absurd to imagine that she could be like the son her father had lost. She could
never
match up to Michael. And she’d been a fool even to try.

Jasper always said that he didn’t blame her for the loss of his wife and son, but Lacey knew the truth. She could see it in his eyes. He never laughed any more, rarely even played tennis, even though they had their own courts on their Cape Town estate. All he cared about was his work.

Lacey swore that she’d do everything in her power to help her father though his grief. To make up for robbing him of the son he’d loved more than anyone and anything in the whole wide world...

High above in the cloudless sky the sun beat down mercilessly over Matshana. Lacey took off her hat and shook her hair out, then wiped her brow with the back of her hand. Beads of perspiration glistened against her skin and she felt hot and exhausted. She stopped when she got to the
kopje
and monetarily pressed her forehead against the cool granite as she unfastened her flask and took a slug of water.

Beyond the shade of the gnarled tree, a shimmering heat haze hovered over the landscape. She was quite alone out here in the bush. Alone - and maybe just a little bit anxious? Shielding her eyes from the sun, she scanned the distant horizon. Nothing - apart from long grasses, clusters of
kopjes
and a scattering of trees.

It was then that she realised she’d come off the main track. How stupid was that? No-one with any sense would leave the safety of recognised tracks. But then, no-one with any sense would go wandering out into the bush, in soaring midday temperatures, without telling anyone, would they?

Well, she’d said she wanted to be alone. And she sure as hell was alone now. Completely and utterly alone. This was the
real
Africa. Her homeland. And yet, somehow, right now, the sheer size of it, the savage beauty and awesome heat, seemed just a bit… scary…?

How Mortimer would laugh if he could see her now. He’d always scorned her love for Africa. He was a city person. He’d be content in any city anywhere in the world if glitz and glamour and rich pickings were there for the taking. Jasper had warmed to him the minute he came to work for Style Concepts. He could see something of Michael in the thrusting, ambitious young executive who took to the company like a duck to water.

But Jasper was wrong. Mortimer may have had Michael’s business acumen, but he lacked Michael’s wacky sense of humour, respect for the underdog and generous, loving heart. No, in Lacey’s eyes, Mortimer was nothing like Michael. But Jasper disagreed. And who was she to argue? If Mortimer could fill some of the empty spaces that Michael had left behind, then who was she to spoil her father’s happiness?

When Mortimer had asked her out on that first date, Jasper had been thrilled. In his eyes, it was the perfect match, and he’d done everything in his power to make it happen. Lacey had felt pressured; she could see that Mortimer wanted the relationship as much as Jasper. But why? He didn’t really love her, did he? He just needed a trophy wife. But Jasper was so wrapped up in his plans for Mortimer that he didn’t see the truth; didn’t
want
to see the truth.