Rose of the Desert (23 page)

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Authors: Roumelia Lane

BOOK: Rose of the Desert
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She backed the car a few yards and then it stopped of its own volition.

Julie bit her lower lip in agitation. She pressed down hard on the starter, fiddled with every knob and button to be seen, her ears straining for that oh, so comforting sound of a throbbing engine ... but no, nothing.

Nothing but an eerie stillness.

It took a few moments to discipline flying nerves. After that there seemed nothing else for it but to go outside and have a look round. There was no torch in the car, so she- would have to try and get her bearings by the headlights.

Five minutes out there and she knew the situation was hopeless. There was no chance of reaching help tonight.

It looked like some kind of a forest. She must have veered off into the fringe of it some time ago and penetrated deeper with every turn of the wheel. Heaven knew how she had missed hitting a tree! They seemed to be everywhere and in some places less than ten feet apart.

Soberly she stepped back into the car.

The air was chilly. She found some slight comfort in pulling the door closed. Should she leave the headlights on? Yes, they would keep unpleasant things away ... animals. What kind of animals would one find in a place like this?

Her heart pounded, but she refused to let the misgivings inside her boil up into panic. They were stranded, yes, and would undoubtedly have to spend the night here, but as long as they remained inside the car they were safe. When daylight came they could make their way to the road on foot.

The night seemed interminable. At one time between dozes Julie felt the hair on the back of her neck rise. A large black shape stood motionless a few feet from the car. She couldn't make out what it was, but there was no mistaking the hostile glare of those luminous eyes. A few seconds later it ambled off into the undergrowth, and Julie gently let out the breath she had been holding.

As the sky lightened between the trees she switched off the headlights. It would be dawn any minute and the road couldn't be far away.

There was no question of going back to Bongola. No matter what happened they would keep going in the opposite direction and hope for a lift, or the miracle of a native who understood the workings of a car. It was still possible to meet up with a convoy further on ... and if not surely somebody somewhere would help them to get back to England.

 

The children were beginning to stir at the back. After reviewing the situation Julie could face them with an almost cheerful smile.

"Come along, sleepyheads, time to wake up!"

Mark gave his slow smile and thrust a plump fist over the rug. After the merest flicker of an eyelid he decided it was much nicer to lie in the warmth.

Janet, her usual effervescent self, sprang up immediately, eyeing her surroundings with interest.

"Why are we in a car?"

"It broke down right here in the trees," Julie smiled. "We'll have to walk to the road and find someone to mend it."

With a sneaking hope she tried the engine again. There wasn't even a shudder.

"My daddy can make it go." Mark plucked dreamily at a strand of fluff on the rug.
These
constant references to his dead father were of a three-year-old who confidently believes the loved one is always there but just out of sight. They never failed to bring a lump to Julie's throat.

"Well, shall we start?" she asked with shaky brightness. "I think if we follow the marks that the car made we should soon be there."

Vague and uncomplaining, the children tumbled from the seat, but once outside they stared around with eyes wide and apprehensive. Weird ungainly trees and open stretches of scrub covered in a grey mist ... it wasn't a particularly reassuring sight, Julie was the first to admit, but only in her thoughts. Tiny muscles trembled around her mouth from the strain of showing what she hoped was a calm untroubled expression.

"Mark, take my hand, and Janet, this side ... now here we go!"

Small hands gripped hers too tightly and they started off. It was going to prove difficult walking three abreast, for clumps of spiky grass sprouted everywhere. Just the same it was unthinkable to let the children go on ahead or follow behind. She found herself clutching back at their hands as they moved, an ungainly trio, through the forest.

In some places the tyre-marks were set unbelievably clear in the damp brown earth. In others they faded alarmingly in stretches of spongy green moss.

Julie dared not take her eyes from them for a minute. She had a vague idea of receding trees and oncoming trees, fat squat ones, prickly bushy ones ,.. trees ... trees ... would they never end?

Mark's hand began to drag,

"I'ne tired, and my leg hurts, and it's hot!" Some time ago their breath had stopped being smoky columns from their mouths. The thick clothes they wore to guard against the dawn chill were now encasing the heat that descended in a damp humid cloud.

"We'll have a rest and take off those woollies," Julie suggested.

When they were in a heap on the ground, she looked down to see a thread of blood forming diagonally below Mark's knee. The blades of grass were razor-sharp, she knew; her own legs had been in smarting contact more than once.

"I think I have a clean hankie ..." she searched cheerfully. "Sit on this log, Mark. We'll soon have that leg feeling better."

Janet examined the trail of tyre-marks with a curious finger. Julie tied the knot neatly.

"There, how's that?"

Mark nodded, proudly surveying his bandaged leg. He swung it leisurely for a while and then looked up expectantly.

"Can I have a drink now?"

"Well, I haven't got anything with me, pet, but I'm sure we're nearly there."

"I hope so. I hope we're nearly there," he sighed heavily.

"Bound to be." She took his hand in hers and put the other to collect Janet.

If Wasn't grasped by another small hand as she had expected.

"Janet... ?" She turned. The clearing was empty. There was no sign of the flouncing blonde pony-tail. "Janet!" she called again, louder, struggling to keep the alarm out of her voice.

The only sound was the scuffing of Mark's shoes against the log, and then blissfully in the distance came Janet's gay treble.

"Here I am! I'm following the tracks like you said!" Julie let out a quivering sigh and called somewhat shakily,

"Stay where you are, darling, or we'll never catch you up!" With Mark hanging on she moved off in the direction of the voice.

"Jan ... et!" she called, making
a
game of it now. "Where are you?"

"Jan ... et!" Mark followed suit happily. "Where are you?"

"Here I am! Here I am!" came back the delighted voice. At last the three met up and Julie took Janet by the shoulders.

"I don't want you to wander away, pet, because we want to get on quickly, don't we? But never mind, perhaps we won't have to stop again."

She looked down expectantly, but the earth that didn't sprout coarse grass was smooth and unbroken. A small pulse began to work at the base of her throat.

"I ... thought you said you were following the tracks?"

"I was, but I lost them," Janet replied, absently stripping the leaves from a nearby bush. "When are we going to have a drink?"

Julie raised her head. She ought to have noticed. The trees were grouped much closer together here. A car would never have got through. She had been so intent on recovering Janet that all thoughts of the car tracks had flown. Well, there was nothing for it but to retrace their steps. Now ... she though carefully ... which wav had she and Mark come through? Past the grey gnarled trunk on the left? Or was it over there by the tangle of blossom? No, she would have remembered its vivid colours. Over there, then, where the trunks were slender and the sunshine dappled the earth?

Doubt gnawed at the edge of her mind.
Was
it that way?

How many times had she turned since speaking to Janet? The children, sensing her uncertainty, looked up with eyes tinged with fear. It wasn't good to dither in front of them, she decided, and turned her back on the tangle of blossom. It
had
to be the grey gnarled trunk.

Yes, it must be this way! With every step her confidence increased. The trees grew sparser, open ground was plentiful. Her heart almost sang. Soon now they would come upon the road, this was obviously the edge of the forest skirting it. There was no need of the car tracks now to guide them to safety. If they kept going in this direction it might only be a matter of minutes.

 

The sun beat down with equatorial intensity too grudging to let the merest breeze trickle through. Julie had never known such heat at this altitude; she could only assume that they were traversing some sort of valley that trapped the sun's rays and held them.

It must be more than an hour since they had lost sight of the car tracks ... her watch had stopped long ago. Still no sign of the road. The ground was humped and uneven and splodged with corn-yellow grass. The only trees now were the ugly baobabs with their warped prickly trunks. Blunt branches strained to the sky as though they would be rid of the handful of leaves that clung.

For the third time in the last few minutes Mark whimpered. His hand was dragging Julie's further and further back. Every now and again he stumbled over the rough ground. Janet made no comment, but wide brown eyes swivelled in concern from Mark to Julie and then at their surroundings.

After a few more steps Julie made a decision. They would have to get back amongst the trees or all go down with sunstroke. They were lost. It would be madness to jolly herself along any longer. She blinked back the tears furiously. There was no road. She doubted whether there had ever been one.... Worse still, she was beginning to doubt if they would ever see one again.

That was ridiculous. She squared her shoulders. Back amongst the trees at least she would be able to think clearly. Out here in this blinding heat.... She swept Mark up into her arms.

"Take a hold of my dress, Janet, and we'll see if we can find some shade. What we all need is a nice long rest."

"Will we have a drink and something to eat then?"

"We will as soon as we can, yes. Let's try over there where the trees start."

She never thought she would be glad to see the myriad of trunks again, but their blissful coolness was like balm to flaming cheeks. A reasonably green patch on a small rise of ground looked an ideal spot to deposit Janet and Mark. It was hemmed in on three sides by small trees and thick bushes.

"Now listen, Janet, I want you to sit here next to Mark and not move. Not for one second, do you understand?"

"Are you going to fetch Clay?"

"Well, I'm not sure about that."

"Where are you going, then?" A smudge on her cheek and over-bright eyes Janet took Mark's hand. As she looked up the lower lip quivered dangerously.

Almost on the verge of tears herself, Julie didn't know where she found the strength to say cheerily,

"I'm not going anywhere, pet. You'll be able to see me the whole of the time and I'll be able to see you. I thought I might explore this area. I expect I'll find the car tracks," she said with false optimism, "and maybe I'll hear a stream and then we can all have a drink."

"And we can catch some fish," Janet replied with gravity.

"And me a drink, please, Doolie," Mark said, clutching his sister's hand.

"And you a drink, sweetheart." She pushed a lock of hair back from the damp forehead. "Now remember, per- fecdy still."

They wouldn't move, Julie was confident. Just the same, she had no intention of letting them out of her sight. Every few steps she turned back to see two pair of eyes following her every movement.

It was much greener in this part of the forest. The vegetation was quite lush. Wax-like blossoms draped almost to the ground and colourful berries, some as large as plums, hung just an arm-stretch away. Just like plums ... Julie stared harder. They did look tempting ... round and fat and mouth-wateringly succulent. She licked her dry lips, realising that her mouth hadn't been capable of watering for some time. Almost automatically her hand lifted, but she dropped it quickly.

The berries might look tempting, but they could be poisonous.

How many times had they had it drilled into them at school?
Never eat strange berries!
That was in England and this was Africa, ten times more lethal. Well, she had " talked herself out of that! Dragging her eyes away from the golden baubles, she walked on a little, listening for the sound of running water. There was only the prattle of the children's voices.

She looked back. They had relaxed a little and seemed to be enjoying the grassy bank. If only that was what it was ... a grassy bank alongside some peaceful river, with Mark and Janet romping and Clay and ... She plucked jerkily at a head of blossom, forcing herself to examine its waxlike beauty. Surely the petals would crack in her fingers? Surprisingly they were as supple and smooth as satin.

Once again she strained her ears for the sound of water, and realised with a slight chill that there was no sound at all. Instantly she turned and breathed again. The children were still on the bank. They seemed to be enjoying some kind of situation. Mark had his hand to his mouth and Janet, turning a little, had her arm outstretched, reaching for ... Oh no, not the berries!

Julie ran forward, her legs almost doubling under her.

"Janet, no!"

The words were little more than a croak in a parched throat. She must have stumbled across the clearing in a matter of seconds, but orange stains around small mouths told her she was that many seconds too late.

It was necessary at that moment to school herself into believing her feet were firmly riveted to the floor. She wanted to fly around waving her arms, shouting for help, but what good would that do? Who would come? There was no one to hear. No one to hear ... and no one to help.

Julie bit back a sob and threw a half-eaten berry away. If Janet and Mark were poisoned what could she do? Shouldn't they be given milk or something like that? Milk! ... the sob rose again in her throat, bubbling close to hysteria ... there wasn't even the luxury of water. No wonder the children had clutched at the berries. Young as they were, they knew the juice would be balm to parched throats.

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