Jackal's Dance (63 page)

Thea and Sean never discussed their feelings for each other. That subject had been shelved. On display was only friendship, although the fact that both sought work in Botswana stood as an unspoken commitment to the possibility that their future lay together. Neither of them was ready for the emotion of physical love.

Nearly a month passed. Memories started fading. Terror, desperation and shock slowly gave way to other, more normal, feelings. Without realising it was happening, Sean and Thea were moving towards each other at exactly the same pace.

Christmas was two days away. Thea spotted Sean seated at an outside table. He saw her coming, smiled and waved. Thea waved back.

Reaching the table, she plonked herself down.

He eyed her packages. ‘Been shopping?'

‘Yes.'

‘What did you find?'

‘None of your business.' Her smile said it was a secret.

‘I've got some good news.' Excitement hovered in his eyes. ‘I heard from Botswana today.'

‘Sean! Which one? What did they say?' She knew he'd applied for three jobs.

He grinned. ‘I got the one I wanted.'

‘That's fantastic. When do you start?'

‘First of next month.'

‘Oh! That's just over a week away.' Her face had fallen.

Sean reached over and held her hands. ‘That's not all.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘You know I told you they were replacing a ranger because his marriage broke up?'

‘Yes.'

‘His wife was assistant manager.'

‘So?'

‘That position is still available.'

Thea sat back and stared at him. ‘This has an ominously familiar ring to it,' she said eventually.

‘That's why I didn't say anything before. I had to get the job first.'

‘It's yours then? With or without me?'

‘Yep.'

‘And you didn't mention me in your interview?'

His hazel eyes met hers. ‘No. They phoned this
morning to say I'd got it. That's when I asked if they'd found an assistant manager. They haven't. So I told them about you.'

‘And?' she prodded.

‘Looks like it's there if you want it.'

Thea flung her arms around Sean's neck and hugged him. When they drew apart, her eyes were shining. ‘What about an interview?'

‘Um.'

‘What does um mean?'

‘Promise not to get mad.'

‘What does um mean?'

‘I told them to contact the Department of Nature Conservation here if they wanted a reference.'

‘Why? I could have gone to Maun.'

‘I know. It's just that I want to spend Christmas with you.' Sean looked anxious. ‘Do you mind?'

Thea thought about the question before replying. Billy had made a lot of presumptions and look where they had led. Sean was still watching her, a worried look on his face. She smiled. ‘Not this time. Just don't make a habit of it.'

‘There's something else too.'

She stared at him.

‘A little thing, really.'

Thea remained silent.

Committed, he had to tell her. ‘You get a nice bungalow. My accommodation is under canvas. I did ask if they would mind if . . . well . . . down the track, maybe we . . . sort of . . . gravitated together.'

‘Gravitated together?' She was trying not to smile.

‘Yes.'

‘That's a novel way of putting it.'

‘They said it would be okay.' It came out in a rush.

‘I spoke to my lawyer this morning.'

The subject change was a relief. ‘What did he say?'

‘Billy has agreed to a quick solution. He'll admit to adultery.'

‘That's decent of him.'

‘Decent!' Thea pulled a face. ‘Like to hear his exact words?'

‘Do I want to?'

‘Probably not but I'll tell you anyway. He said, “She's the one who was unfaithful. I should be divorcing her. But if it gets the bitch out of my life faster this way I'll confess to murder if you like. Hudson is welcome to her. They deserve each other.” Wasn't that nice of him?'

‘Charming!'

‘He could sue me and I'd be more than happy to admit to adultery, but Billy being Billy, he doesn't like that idea.'

‘Too much for his ego. He wants people to think that he's the naughty boy, not the one with egg on his face.'

Thea sighed. ‘What a vain man he is.' She reached over and took one of his hands in hers. ‘The divorce should only take a couple of months but until it's through I'm legally still his wife.'

‘I know.' Sean wondered what she was getting at.

‘So if we're going to gravitate, we'll technically be breaking the law.'

Sean drew breath sharply when he read the message in her eyes. ‘Dan's out for the day.'

Thea raised an eyebrow.

A waitress finally came to serve them. ‘Nothing thanks,' Sean said, rising to his feet. ‘We've changed our minds.'

Long Island, United States of America: 6 January

‘Welcome home, son.' Judge Fulton, retired but still demanding the title, shook James' hand. ‘Took you long enough to get here,' he added.

‘Darling.' James' mother was openly pleased to see her son. She embraced him tightly. ‘Oh, my poor baby, what a dreadful experience.'

James, well recovered from surgery in Windhoek, flew back to the United States before Christmas. He put off visiting his parents, claiming a need to catch up on work first. In fact, all James wanted to do was stay in the apartment he and Mal had shared. It was a way of coming to terms with his loss. The truth about his rape had been withheld. His parents knew only that their son had been captured by terrorists and that his friend, Mal Black, was dead.

James returned gaunt and depressed, refusing point blank to grant even one of many interview requests. Going straight back to work, the only
thing he would say in response to concerned colleagues' questions was, ‘A terrible experience but it's over. I don't wish to talk about it.'

Christmas spent with his daughter became quality time which had him re-evaluating his priorities. When his ex-wife arrived to collect the child, James invited her in and calmly announced that he was gay. That immediately dissolved the friction between them and the three of them ended up spending New Year's Eve together. Encouraged, if surprised, James then came out at work and was totally unprepared for the understanding and acceptance he received. Now it was time to tell his mother and father.

James kept Mal informed with daily visits to the cemetery. Despite winter's chill, he would sit beside the grave and talk to his friend as if he were still alive. Passers-by grew used to the sight of a good-looking young man speaking to thin air. They understood. Regulars made their own pilgrimage down the long, winding road, each seeking acceptance at the loss of a loved one.

His parents had retired to a suburb on Long Island. James, unable to put it off any longer, made the journey on a Sunday, after telling Mal. He gently removed his mother's arms, held her face in his hands and smiled. ‘I'm fine, Mother, really.'

‘But you've lost so much weight.'

‘I'm eating well. It'll come back.'

‘Leave the boy alone. You can see he's perfectly fit. Come, son. I want to hear all about it.'

James sat in the chair indicated. His mother
brought them each a glass of not very good Nappa Valley cabernet-shiraz then sat with them, anxious to hear her son's story.

‘Hostages,' his father said suddenly. ‘In my opinion, those who capture people and hold them for ransom are the scum of the earth. I remember one case I presided over. Five men held a woman hostage for three weeks.' The judge was off and running. James had heard the story half-a-dozen times. It was one of his father's favourites, an opportunity to shove his importance down the listener's throat. James switched off. His father would eventually run out of steam, probably at lunch.

When it became obvious to his mother that the only thing she was likely to hear would be the sound of her husband's voice, she rose and disappeared to the kitchen. She had a special relationship with her son. He'd tell her when he was ready, preferably without the judge being there.

Food being the love of his father's life, silence prevailed save for the satisfied slurping of a lobster bisque. Talking at the table had always been frowned upon. Good conversation, so the judge firmly believed, was when he talked and everyone else listened. Busy eating, the no talking rule saved James from the arduous task of listening. As his mother rose to clear away empty soup plates, he spoke. ‘Please sit down. I have something to tell you both.'

‘Can't it wait, my boy? We're having my favourite, home-made chicken pie.'

‘No, I'm afraid it can't.'

‘Oh, well do hurry up then.' The judge threw down his napkin, sipped wine and glared at James.

‘What is it?'

The moment he'd always dreaded had come. James cleared his throat. ‘I'm gay. I thought you should know.'

He registered the sudden intake of breath from his mother. The judge's bemused look was one of sheer incomprehension.

‘I'm sorry if that's a disappointment to either of you but that's the way it is.'

Mrs Fulton gave a quick shake of her head.

‘Mal was my partner.'

‘Oh dear.' His mother's eyes filled with tears.

The judge spluttered a single word. ‘What?'

James turned to look at him. His tone level, eyes steady. ‘I am homosexual. Mal was my boyfriend, my lover.'
That should be plain enough.

A deathly hush descended on the room. The judge's face turned bright red and he seemed to stop breathing.

James too held his breath.

‘Get out of my house.'

Folding his napkin, James slowly turned to his mother. ‘I knew this would happen. Sorry. I'll keep in touch but if you want to see me, it'll have to be in the city.' He looked back to his father. ‘Mal was right about you. You're a pompous bully. Goodbye. Don't bother to see me out.'

He rose and left the house.

The judge scowled at his sobbing wife. ‘Where's the chicken pie?'

It was a long drive back to the cemetery where his lover lay. ‘No more secrets, Blackie. Now everyone knows. I miss you. Our cat misses you. I will always love you.'

Two days ago James had been diagnosed as HIV positive.

A breeze rustled leaves overhead. James fancied he could hear Mal's voice. He tilted his head and let the soft wind caress his face. ‘I'm not far behind you.'

Johannesburg, South Africa: 18 January

‘You what?' Yonina Leah's voice always managed to sound as if she were pinching her nose. She turned dramatic eyes to her husband. ‘Ozzie, the girl is mad in the head. Talk some sense into her.'

Ozzie was at a loss for words. Josie had just told them she would not be going back to complete her university degree. Instead, she intended to accept an invitation from Walter Schmidt and travel to Stuttgart. The letter had arrived yesterday, Josie slept on the idea and was now telling her parents. Walter had been blunt.

Josie had to read the letter five times. Even then, she wondered if it were a rather sick joke. It couldn't be. Walter wasn't that kind of man. Nor was he the type to act impulsively. Okay, for one brief moment in the bush they had experienced an understanding far beyond that of two individuals. Sure, she had helped him with Jutta, but so had others. True, Walter had seemed touched that she visited him in hospital. That was all. There was no rational reason to walk away from his business and hand it over to a virtual stranger. Hard-headed businessmen didn't act that way, no matter how old or sick they may be.

Arrival of the extraordinary offer coincided with some serious soul-searching on the part of Josie. The
entire Etosha experience had left an indelible scar but drama and self-pity were not her style. Instead, as many of the hostages did, Josie re-evaluated her priorities. Life was short, corners appeared in front of you when they were least expected. It could not be plotted. As much as she loved university, Josie needed a change, a new challenge. Who knew what lay around the next bend? If Etosha had taught her anything, it was that life should be lived.

Her mind made up to at least learn more about what Walter had in mind, Josie broke the news to her parents. As expected, she encountered objections, disbelief and suspicion.

Ozzie stared at her. ‘Who is this man?'

‘I told you about him.'

‘He's German.'

‘Yes.'

‘So why make an offer like that to a Jew?'

‘It's his conscience,' Yonina cut in. ‘He thinks it will buy forgiveness.'

‘That's not what it is, Mommie.'