The Elephant's Tale (6 page)

There was a knock at the door. Tendai came in wearing a T-shirt and crumpled work trousers. He was very relieved to see Martine.

“Thank goodness you’re safe, little one. When Ben told me an intruder had broken into the house, I imagined the worst—a lunatic with a machete roaming round outside your bedrooms.”

“This is all my fault,” Ben told him. “I heard a noise but I thought it was nothing and I rolled over and went back to sleep. It was only when I heard the gate screech that I got up and investigated. If I’d listened to my instincts sooner, none of this would have happened.” He didn’t add that the real reason he’d gone back to sleep was that Martine had told him she was planning to go for a late-night ride on the white giraffe and he’d assumed it was her.

“Don’t take any notice of Ben,” said Martine. “I’m the one to blame because I went out to see Jemmy and forgot to lock the back door.”

The game warden ran a weary hand over his eyes. “It’s nobody’s fault and no one is to blame. If the back door hadn’t been open, the burglar would have broken a window or picked the lock. He was determined to get in and nothing would have stopped him.”

“But where was Tobias?” Martine wanted to know. “Did he see anyone? Did he try to stop them?”

“Tobias was knocked unconscious. He made himself a cup of tea at around three a.m., went to check on a suspicious noise near the main gate, and that’s the last thing he remembers. He has a splitting headache and a lump on his head, but he should recover in a day or two. Sampson is going to take him to the hospital to be checked over by a doctor. I must stay here and wait for the police.”

“Knocked unconscious?
Whoever broke in must have wanted something very badly. What do you think they were after?”

“It’s impossible to tell. I’m familiar with the game reserve accounts but not, of course, with your grandmother’s private papers. This person left behind the petty cash, so it seems they were not after money.”

“I’ve had a look around and nothing else seems to have been touched,” said Ben. “So he or she was after something specific.”

“I can’t imagine who might be interested in getting his hands on my grandmother’s secret papers,” Martine said sarcastically.

The game warden gave her a reproving glance. “You suspect Mr. James? Please, little one, you cannot be serious. I know you are bitter about him inheriting Sawubona, as I am at the prospect of losing my job, but he is a highly respected businessman and a millionaire many times over. Respectable millionaires don’t break into people’s homes and ransack their studies. And why would he want to do such a thing to a house he is about to move into?”

Martine was just about to say that there was nothing respectable about millionaire businessmen who trick people into signing away their dreams, their homes, and the lives of vulnerable animals, when there was a cacophony of screaming engines and wailing sirens outside.

They all ran out into the yard. A lone police car with flashing lights was flying down the long gravel road that led from Sawubona’s main entrance to the house, closely followed by an airplane that appeared to be using the road as a runway. The police car hooted at the gate just as the light aircraft shuddered to a halt in a mushroom cloud of dust. Behind the game reserve fence, a herd of springbok were springing for their lives.

Tendai shook his head. “I will admit one thing,” he said. “Ever since Mr. James showed up, Sawubona has become a three-ring circus.”

T
hat afternoon, Martine was mopping the kitchen floor and generally trying to rid the house of the dirty bootprints, fingerprint dust, and milk tart crumbs left by the police, who’d been “worse than useless,” as her grandmother would have put it, when she spotted the white giraffe at the game park gate. He seemed to be backing away. She went out onto the back
stoep
to see what was bothering him. At the far end of the garden, Reuben James was reaching up and trying to feed him through the fence.

Martine was livid. She sprinted through the mango trees and prepared to confront her nemesis.

Before she could get a word out, he said, “Ah, Martine. Nice to see you. Your giraffe—Jeremiah, is it?—and I were just getting acquainted. I hear there’s a legend around here that says the child who rides a white giraffe has power over all animals. That would be you, I suppose. Lurk was telling me the other day that a buffalo that appeared to be quite dead jumped to its feet like a spring lamb when you touched it.”

“I’m surprised Lurk had time to see anything,” retorted Martine. “He was too busy trying to start a wildfire with his cigarette, being rude to Tendai, and frightening our elephants.”

Reuben James chuckled. “I rather think that it was the elephant who frightened him. In my experience, elephants are much hardier than people would like to believe. Look at the one I gave to your grandfather. She was skin and bone and could hardly put one foot in front of the other when she arrived here, and now I’m told she’s as right as rain. Nothing wrong with her at all.”

Martine wondered if he had made the connection that the elephant he’d given Sawubona was the same one who’d charged his chauffeur. She decided not to say anything in case he hadn’t. He might decide to punish Angel when he took over the reserve.

Realizing he could do the same to Jemmy if she upset him, she said more politely, “Would you mind leaving my giraffe alone and not feeding him? He’s nervous of strangers and he only eats acacia leaves.”

Reuben James craned his neck to squint at Jemmy, who was hovering near the fence to be close to Martine. “Oh, I’m sure he could be tempted with a treat or two.” He held up a sprig of honeysuckle flowers.

The white giraffe leaned toward him, his mouth watering at the sight of such a delectable dish, but his terror of the man was too strong and he pulled back without taking any.

Martine wanted to scratch Reuben James’s eyes out. Controlling herself with difficulty, she let herself into the game reserve, shutting and locking the gate behind her just to prove that she still had rights at Sawubona and he didn’t. Jemmy put his head down and nuzzled her.

From the other side of the fence, Reuben James said smoothly, “I hear you had a break-in last night.”

“And I suppose you had nothing to do with it?” snapped Martine, forgetting her resolution to be polite.

He smiled. “Come now, Martine, you and I seem to have got off on the wrong foot. It’s hardly surprising that you’ve taken against me, given how much you love Sawubona, but breaking and entering is really not my style.”

“Oh, and taking away people’s dreams and wildlife sanctuaries is?”

Reuben James tossed the honeysuckle on the ground and wiped his hands on a monogrammed handkerchief. “Martine, you’re too young to understand about business, but ask yourself this. If your grandfather had cared,
really
cared about Sawubona, would he have overstretched himself financially and put his family’s future in jeopardy? I think not. I’m not the bad guy here.”

She had to hand it to him—he was good. For a moment, he almost had
her
questioning what Henry Thomas had done. But then he went too far.

He leaned against the fence and said, “I tell you what, Martine, I’m prepared to make a deal with you. Choose an animal, any animal, on the reserve, and it’s yours. You can visit it for free whenever you want to. Any animal, that is, except the white giraffe. Did I tell you we’re planning to change Sawubona’s name to the White Giraffe Safari Park in his honor?”

At the mention of the safari park, a cold calm came over Martine. She saw that she and Reuben James were like chess players. He had made his move and now she had to make hers. An image of Grace navigating her way bravely through the catacombs of the Secret Valley entered her mind. She said, “You know, you really shouldn’t underestimate us. There are people at Sawubona who have powers you couldn’t possibly understand.”

Her green eyes met his blue ones in challenge. “Somehow we’re going to find a way to stop you.”

Something dark and almost savage flitted across Reuben James’s face, but it was gone before Martine could take it in. His customary polished smile replaced it.

“Is that a fact?” he said. “Well, let me give you a word of advice, young lady. I’m a patient man and a generous one, but I’m only patient and generous to a point. Don’t make the mistake of crossing me.”

The phone was ringing when Martine walked back into the house. She picked up the receiver in the kitchen. Outside, the wind was heavy with the iron scent of rain, and the back door creaked on its hinges. Battleship-gray clouds scudded over the game reserve.

“Martine, thank goodness I’ve reached you,” cried Gwyn Thomas. “I’ve been calling and calling but there’s been no reply. I’ve been worried sick. What’s going on there? Is everything all right?”

“Everything’s fine,” lied Martine. There was no point telling her grandmother about Lurk being charged by the elephant or the burglary or anything else. She’d only freak out and do something drastic like get on the next plane home without having discovered anything at all in England. Sawubona would be more in jeopardy than ever. “Sorry you’ve had trouble getting hold of us. Grace doesn’t like to answer the phone and Ben and I have been out on the reserve a lot, helping Tendai.”

“Well, thank goodness for that. I was imagining the worst. Has Mr. James been back?”

“Back and forth, but we can handle him,” Martine replied, and changed the subject. “How’s England? Is it freezing?”

“And gray,” confirmed her grandmother. “And very wet. I’m staying at a country inn straight out of a werewolf movie, with low beams and hostile locals and its very own Hound of the Baskervilles. The room is so small I have to climb into bed as I come through the door. But that’s not what I called to talk to you about.”

“The key!” Martine said, remembering. “What was in the safety-deposit box? Did you find a different will?”

“Not exactly. To be honest, it’s all a bit mysterious and it’s left me questioning my sanity. I’m wracked with guilt about abandoning you, Ben, and Tendai to the mercy of that awful man in order to fly thousands of miles on what appears to be a wild-goose chase. The safety-deposit box contained nothing much of anything, really. Certainly nothing that’s going to help us save Sawubona. Just an envelope.”

“An envelope? Is there a letter in it?”

“No, that’s the peculiar part. There were only two items in it: a map of Damaraland in Namibia, and another key. The type that might fit a suitcase lock.”

“What suitcase?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. The other thing that’s strange is that the envelope is one that belonged to Veronica.”

“My mum?”

“I was surprised too,” said Gwyn Thomas. “It has your old Hampshire address on the back in her handwriting. I can’t think what it’s doing in Henry’s safety-deposit box.”

“Maybe she had something she needed to keep safe?” Into Martine’s mind, unbidden, came the thought:
Or maybe she had something to hide.

“An African tourist map and a key with no address label on it? No, I think it’s more likely that whatever she or Henry put in the box has long since been removed and that the map is just a stray memento from some trip or other. The key might be worth looking into, but without an address, I don’t really know where to start.”

They talked about things closer to home after that. Gwyn Thomas missed Sawubona and everyone on it and wanted an update on almost every animal on the reserve. That roused Martine’s suspicions immediately. If there was one thing her grandmother couldn’t abide it was wasted money, especially when it came to the telephone, and she was sure the call from England was costing a fortune. And yet every time she tried to say good-bye, her grandmother would find a new way to keep her on the line.

After five or six minutes of this, Martine said, “Is there something on your mind, Grandmother?”

“No, of course not. Well, naturally I’m very concerned about the future, but apart from that I’m fine. I should go. I’m sure my phone card is about to run out. They’re a con these cards, an absolute con.”

Martine carried the phone over to the kitchen window. Through it she could see the length of the garden and all the way down to the water hole on the other side of the game fence, over which a black sky hung low. Six pot-bellied zebras were trotting for cover. Martine said, “Are you afraid of what you might find if you start investigating?”

The voice on the other end of the line was indignant. “Afraid? Don’t be ridiculous.” There was a pause and then Gwyn Thomas said, “Oh, who am I kidding? Yes, Martine, to be honest, I am scared. I’m scared that the man I loved, the man whose life I shared for forty-two years, might not have been the man I thought he was.”

There was a rush of wind through the mango trees. Fat drops began to fall, drumming the thatch. The roses bowed their heads as the rain fell faster and faster.