Zambezi Seduction (10 page)

ELEVEN

A charming black nurse took a blood sample, started Kerry on the antibiotic treatment and smothered her ankle with calamine lotion. The effect on Kerry’s leg was immediate – it cooled and the itchy feeling subsided.

The white sheets felt wonderful; so crisp and cool against her burning body.

Despite the pounding in her head, she tried to think. She knew she was seriously ill; equally she knew she was in the best place to fight
the fever. She would receive proper care and follow the doctor’s instructions. She willed herself to get better soon. The holiday was far from over. She hated the thought of missing even one day. Most of all she hated the thought of burdening Chad. From the start she had set out to match his schedule, work to his pace without complaint and show that his faith in an untried Englishwoman was justified.

She had succeeded, until this cruel blow.

Kerry set her mind to a swift recovery. She felt a great tiredness overwhelm her. She settled back in the bed and shut her eyes.

***

When she woke it was light outside the window. She had vague memories of being wakened and given further antibiotics. Perhaps the nurse had also given her something to prolong her sleep.  She quickly assessed her condition. Her ankle felt a lot better – the calamine had worked a treat. Her headache was down to more manageable proportions. Fever still racked her body. All in all, a slight improvement.

Chad had promised to come last night. She had no recollection of his visit – she must have slept through it. He was sure to drop in again this morning.

When the same nurse as yesterday came to give her more antibiotics, Kerry asked about Chad.

“He came,” the nurse smiled. “I was off duty, but I heard he left a letter for you in the small cupboard.”

“A letter?”

“Let me get it for you.”

Kerry was worried. She could think of only two possible reasons for a letter: either he had encountered a problem over the warden’s death, or there had been a delay in the car part arriving from Bulawayo and he was trying to speed things up.

It was not a letter
; merely a note on a single sheet of paper folded once, no envelope. She tried to anticipate its contents. Perhaps a joke to cheer her up. There was indeed news of the car. It was now at the garage. The part should arrive tomorrow – today, Kerry figured – and they should have the car back in a couple of days. She read the next paragraph . . . the paper dropped from her hand.

He was leaving
.
Deserting
her – just when she needed him so badly.

With trembling fingers she snatched at the paper again. There had been a message from Anna
Grobler. The representative of an important overseas client was in South Africa and insisted on seeing Chad. After careful consideration – of Kerry’s need for rest, his car being off the road, plus the client’s high status – Chad had reluctantly decided to do what he had
never done before: break off a field-trip and return home
.
He would drive the hire car to Bulawayo and catch the first flight to Jo’burg. He might be away a couple of days. He would explain everything whenever . . .

That was it. No apology. No cheery words to a sick companion.
This from a man who three nights into their trip had begged her to sleep with him. Damn him! If his aim was to raise her spirits he had bombed.

An hour later Kerry was still furious.
She remembered Anna Grobler saying that with Chad work came first. Boy, was he showing it. But, could there be another explanation? Odd that this should have happened just when Kerry was incapacitated. Had she ever really believed there was nothing between Chad and the Afrikaner beauty? All that innocent talk of virginity from him, and platonic friendship from her had not convinced Kerry. It could have been a smokescreen. With Kerry sidelined for several days and the car out of action, what better than a cosy little interlude? Having been spurned by one woman, was Chad now locked in the arms of another?

Yes!
She was convinced of it. The note was a concoction of lies. She flung it from the bed in a fury.

The day wore on. The doctor came: he said she was progressing well
; her temperature was down; they were confident she was over the worst. Kerry was not so sure. She tossed and turned, still in the fever’s grip. It was her luck to have caught it during the hottest month of the year. The heat was stifling. She perspired; the sheets no longer felt cool and crisp.

As her discomfort increased, so did her black mood.

When the nurse returned, Kerry issued her instructions.

“If Mr Lindsay visits tonight, please inform him that I don
’t want to see him.”

The nurse
’s dark face could not mask her surprise.

“That nice gentleman who brought you in?
But why? What shall I tell him?”

“I won
’t discuss it. Tell him I’m too sick to see anyone . . . Tell him anything you like.”

It displeased Kerry to act so high and mighty. It was totally out of character. The nurse had a pleasant manner and was efficient in her work. She spoke excellent English. Kerry would have liked to talk to her, learn more about her country. But she was too ill for the niceties of conversation, too consumed by rage to be civil.

Throughout the afternoon Kerry had periods of dozing and other times of restlessness as her body fought the fever. Her mind was in turmoil. She became convinced Chad had abandoned her and a message would arrive informing her that he would not be returning. The strain left her exhausted. She realized she was still far from well.

***

The following morning dragged by. Just after midday raised voices in the corridor gave notice of his approach. Kerry heard him bellow, “I don’t care
what
she said. I’m not leaving until I’ve seen her.”

He marched into the room – the picture of defiance, tall and strong, clutching a bunch of flowers
in one hand and various bags in the other. In his wake trailed a nurse, helpless and angry at having her authority ignored. Chad’s face was set in a tense smile.

“Kerry, how are you? I got some crazy message that you didn
’t want to see me.”

The nurse stepped forward
; her face reflected the confusion she was feeling.

“Madam, do you want me to call security?”

Throughout the morning Kerry had worked on hardening her determination to have nothing more to do with the man she considered a liar and a cheat. Now, on seeing him again, it surprised and annoyed her to sense her breathing quicken and to feel an inner glow. But she refused to buckle, condone what he had done. He had taken advantage of a sick woman and acted despicably.

“No,” she said to the nurse. “Leave us to talk for a few minutes. Thank you.”

Chad’s usual attire – shorts and polo shirt – had been replaced by the tan lightweight suit he had worn at their first meeting in the Johannesburg hotel. It hung well on his big frame. The top button of his shirt was undone and a tie hung limply below. It certainly
looked
like he had dressed for business. It brought home to Kerry that, whether dressed for the heat, dust and sweat of the bush country or in more formal attire, Chad Lindsay was an attractive hunk. And to cap his good looks, he had a physical presence – an easy, confident power which emanated from his solid physique – unlike that of any other man she had known.

“I brought these up from
Jo’burg,” he said, holding the bunch of proteas forward. “There’s fruit in the bags.”

Kerry loved
proteas, but she was in no mood to be fobbed off by a peace offering.

“Chad, I
’ve done a lot of thinking,” she began boldly, her heart a-flutter. “I feel let down and furious. I don’t see how we can continue to tour together.”

The South African
’s jaw dropped. “What is this? What’s got into you?”

“You know perfectly well
. Running off to your girlfriends every chance you get –”

“Ah, so that
’s it.”

She had never seen him look so hurt: not when she had refused to sleep with him,
nor when the car had broken down, nor even after the warden’s death.

“So . . . what do you intend to do – bus it to Harare or Bulawayo and return home?”

“Something like that.” The truth was she had given no thought to her next move.

“Kerry, you
’re being foolish. We’ve been through too much together for it to end this way.”

There was no pleading in his voice. It was clear from his measured response that he was leaving the ball in her court. It was her decision.

Looking her straight in the eye, he added, “How can you think me such a rat to go womanizing behind your back?”

“Chad,
you can lay off the sweet-talk. I know what you’re like – remember? And I know about those kinky messages on your answerphone.”

For a moment Chad
’s eyes froze in surprise. Then his expression melted into a wicked grin; finally he laughed.

“Anna been opening her big mouth, has she? It never ceases to amaze me what women – even relative
strangers – find to talk about. Kerry, you can’t blame
me
for messages left by others.”

Kerry felt her will softening. Chad did not have the look of a guilty man. Had she been mistaken? Ill, lonely, depressed after the warden
’s death, she had brought this confrontation upon them, talked herself into a hole from which escape might not be possible. Most hurting of all was the thought now dominating: a lonely airport lounge, the wait for a flight home.

Chad saw her shoulders slump, her head turn away in confusion and despair. He dropped the flowers and fruit in a heap by her bedside, sat on the bed and took her hand.

“Everything in my note was true,” he said gently. “A lot happened in Jo’burg. Good news. We’ll talk later. I’ve been on the go all day, and you need rest. Hear me out before making alternative travel plans.”

With that Chad leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. Then he was gone, leaving Kerry alone with her guilt, shame and anger – now self directed.

***

A nurse arranged the
proteas in a stout vase, then cubed a juicy mango for Kerry – one of the fruit selection Chad had brought from South Africa. Kerry perked up. The trials of a difficult day were behind her. One thought, one feeling, dominated and stayed with her until she sank into a deep sleep – the soft touch of Chad’s lips against her fevered brow.

When she woke after a refreshing four hour sleep, she realized her fever was down – though she still felt weak. The doctor on his rounds confirmed she was on the mend.

Chad arrived and the first thing she tried to do was apologize. But he raised a hand, cutting her off.

“It
’s forgotten.” He changed the subject, much to Kerry’s relief. “Let’s look ahead. The doc reckons you’ll soon be out of here. Tomorrow I should have the car back. I still have days booked in the park, and I’ll use them. Then we’ll head up to Vic Falls.”

Kerry felt herself gripped by the old excitement. It
was
time for a change. Western had lost its early gloss – problems seemed to arrive one after the other. She was so looking forward to seeing the world-famous Victoria Falls.

Chad
had been in irrepressible mood since his arrival.

“Now, I
’ve waited long enough,” she told him. “What was so important that made you rush back home?”

“I
’ve saved the best for last,” he said with a mischievous grin.

His opening revelation left Kerry aghast. Chad had met the cousin of a Middle Eastern prince – an Arab billionaire! She listened enthralled as he described being escorted to the man
’s hotel suite, generally reckoned to be the plushest in the city, if not the country. He talked of the luxurious furnishings, the trolleys and trays of canapés, fruit and drinks on offer.

The prince had sent his cousin to South Africa specifically to see Chad. That was why Chad had felt obliged to interrupt his fiel
d-trip. Sitting in the top-floor penthouse suite he had listened while the Arab told of a chance meeting between the prince and a wealthy Italian industrialist at a London casino. The Italian was ebullient over some recent art purchases. The prince had accepted an invitation back to the businessman’s apartment in Mayfair. There, in private, they discussed possible joint ventures in the oil-rich state and in Europe.

It sounded plausible to Kerry. She knew that Middle Eastern royalty, unlike their European counterparts, did not stand aloof, but were actively involved in setting up trade and defence deals.

After their business talk ended, the prince had insisted on seeing the Italian’s newly acquired paintings. There were a couple of 17
th
Century landscapes and a view of Venice by an imitator of Tintoretto – none of which interested the Arab.