Safari Heartbreak

SAFARI HEARTBREAK Gwen Westwood

Fern seemed secure in her new life .. . Then, because of his grandmother's illness, Fern had to take her son, Crispin, for his yearly month-long visit to his father in Africa--to that giant of a man, Terrill, whom she hadn't seen since their divorce five years ago. Everything was the same. Africa still frightened her--the wildness, the loneliness of a game ranger's life, Terrill's dedication to his work that had always seemed to shut her out. And Fern discovered that something else was just the same. She still loved Terrill!

CHAPTER ONE IN the five years that she had been away, Fern thought, the airport had changed. Like herself, it had grown from something young, unsophisticated and a little unsure of itself to this terminal—still young, admittedly, but far more confident of its own worth. Of course, compared with Heathrow that she had left yesterday, it was very small, but the reception hall had striking murals of African scenes. On the walls, lifelike elephants seemed almost to flap those huge ears above long ivory tusks and lions gazed with greenishyellow eyes at the newly arrived travellers, while in the foyer leaping antelope, frozen in flight, made an arch over the central fountain with its welcoming crystal sound of splashing water, making a vivid comparison to the heat that, in spite of air-conditioning, seemed to be seeping in from outside. 'There he is—there's Terrill!' shouted Crispin, his voice sounding clear and excited over the noises of the busy terminal. And there he was. Who could ever miss him? thought Fern. Standing like a rock as the tides of exotically dressed people surged about him. Tall, as tall as the tallest of the handsome black African officials who swarmed around the airport looking very splendid, their ebony skins a contrast to the gold braid of their smart uniforms. With a shuddering feeling of something like fear, she recognised his broad shoulders, the strong frame towering over the scurrying crowd of travellers, the slim business men in their tailored suits, too formal for this tropical climate, the dark-skinned women like vivid birds in their exciting bright cotton garments. It seemed now to Fern as if she had only parted from him yesterday. With shaking heart she recognised his copper-dark hair, the aquiline features, the lion-gold eyes and the familiar twist of that mobile mouth as he stood relaxed but watchful like that king of beasts surveying his surroundings.

Fern stood there hesitating as if the hundred yards that parted them could be bridged no more easily than their five years' separation, but Crispin, her son, darted through the crowds dodging around people like some miniature rugby player, his bright copper hair conspicuous as he ran towards his father. She saw Terrill swing Crispin up into his arms, and it was almost as if she too felt the remembered strength of them, but she quickly dismissed this feeling. If this unlooked-for encounter with her ex-husband was to be played out on the neutral ground she intended it to be, she must try to forget their past life together. In fact she had thought she had succeeded in forgetting it. Counted in length of time, it had been a small part of her life, but a part that at one time had seemed unforgettable. And now she had built a new life for herself and Crispin, a very successful life as a partner in a goahead kind of travel agency that sent tourists to unique corners of the globe. She supposed in an odd way her success was due to the kind of life she had led with Terrill. It had taught her not to shirk risk, not to be afraid of strange surroundings—but one thing it had not taught her, and that was how to make a success of marriage at too young an age to a man with a devastating allure for just about every woman who met him… Even now, as she walked slowly towards him, she was aware of the admiring glances of women in the crowded concourse, turned towards the tender picture of this man with his striking tanned looks and the young boy so much made in his image, talking animatedly and smiling together. But that smile, so well remembered, was replaced by a guarded look as Fern came reluctantly to join them. Two small creases appeared on the even tan of his brow. 'Fern! I can't believe this is real. I thought Crispin must be fooling when he said you were with him. How come?'

Reluctantly Fern met the gaze of those fierce golden eyes with their thick curling lashes under the dark arching brows. Well, what had she expected? she asked herself. Surely not a fond welcome after all these years? The cooler his attitude to me, the better I can get through the next month, she told herself. His glance seemed cold, and yet at the same time she was conscious of the way his eyes inspected her, taking in every detail of her appearance from head to toe. Once she had loved the thought that he knew everything there was to know about her physical self. But not now. Not ever again. 'I was hardly expecting to come here myself,' she returned in the coolest of tones. 'But isn't it exciting that she could?' said Crispin. He was looking from one to the other in a puzzled, rather anxious way. Fern thought she mustn't dampen the obvious joy he felt at meeting Terrill. She tried to smile and said briskly, 'But didn't Adelaide phone you? She said she would. She fell on an icy pavement two days ago and broke her ankle. It isn't too bad, she's been wonderful about it, but naturally she's still in some pain and didn't feel she could make the journey, so long and cramping.' 'So she persuaded you to come instead. That must have taken some doing!' She caught a gleam of amusement in the greenish- gold eyes and the hard mouth twisted in the semblance of a smile. 'Not at all,' she told him. 'You know I've always loved Adelaide. She may be your mother, but that hasn't affected my feeling for her. I'd do anything for her.' 'Including bringing Crispin to see his father, whom you yourself have not met for five years. Children travel all over the world these days

by themselves. Couldn't you have let Crispin come on his own? The air hostesses are quite used to that kind of thing.' I guess he would have preferred that, she thought. He doesn't want me here. 'I told Adelaide that, but she wouldn't hear of it. I didn't want to distress her further, and besides ...' She broke off, thinking she had betrayed the fact that she hadn't consented easily to this change of plan, but Terrill misinterpreted her hesitation. 'You mean you actually wanted to come? You were curious to know what had happened to me in five long years?' Oh, how well she could remember the charm of the smile that he turned on her now! But it doesn't mean anything now, she told herself. Those piercing eyes might be able to assess her body, but she wasn't going to let him think he could read her mind. 'No, no, it wasn't like that,' she protested. 'I thought we recovered from being interested in what happened to each other all of five years ago.' The golden glow of his eyes seemed somehow to fade, and she remembered too well how his mouth could twist into that smile that was not a smile. 'Too bad! So the real reason you came was that you wouldn't entrust my son to me alone without you or Adelaide to supervise my movements?' 'Exactly,' Fern told him.

'There are other women in the camp, and reliable servants too. Even if he had come alone, he would have been in good hands all the time. He's a big boy now, aren't you, son? Old enough to come out into the wilderness with me. Your mother mustn't treat you like an infant, must she?' He playfully cuffed Crispin, who was gazing at him adoringly. It reminded Fern of the way the lion playfully hits out at his cub. And yet it was the female who had the tending of her young, as well as having to do most of the hunting. Fern felt a wave of fury surge up inside her. It seemed unfair that he should command such instant adoration from his son when they were only together for one month in the year. She had brought Crispin up during the last five years, and a lonely business it had been for a lot of the time. I believe I'm jealous, she thought. Please God, don't let me start having all the mixed-up emotions I suffered when I was married to him! 'I certainly don't treat him like an infant,' she told Terrill indignantly. 'No, Terrill, she doesn't,' Crispin chimed in. 'Mummy's far too busy with her work to baby me. She doesn't have time for that. I can do most things on my own.' 'I'm glad to hear it,' Terrill told him. But he doesn't look glad, thought Fern. I expect he doesn't take to the idea of my running a successful business. Maybe he thinks I'm neglecting Crispin, and that's nonsense, but goodness knows, he himself neglected me in his time while pursuing his own career! She had a sudden swift vision of the nights she had spent alone and sleepless under the bridal festoons of the gauzy mosquito netting, listening to the terrifying laughter of hyenas fighting over their kill, or the thudding roar of a lion silencing all other weird sounds for a few seconds. And she would think of Terrill far away somewhere out

there in the wilderness, not alone but with the group of tourists he had gone out to lead. Each time the safari group gathered at the camp before setting out in their Range Rovers with all the luxury camping equipment she would look at them and wonder which of the elegant, sophisticated women would catch her husband's attention this time. 'But he married you,' a good friend told her when she had confided something of this to her. 'He chose you, and you're carrying his child. Surely that should be enough for you? You can't expect a man as attractive as Terrill to be completely impervious to the kind of woman he meets on safari. I guess he's just flattered. It doesn't really mean a thing.' 'Maybe not, but it hurts,' Fern had said. And he didn't choose me—not really, she thought. I thrust myself at him when he was most vulnerable. But that was another story, and it had all been a mistake. He can't hurt me any more, she assured herself now as she slowly followed the two handsome males to the car. I'm adult now and I've made my life over. Just because I've been forced to spend a month in his company after all this time it doesn't mean I'm going to be affected by it. So far it's only confirmed my opinion of him, my conviction that I'm well out of our marriage. She would only think of the loneliness, the tearing jealousy of those times when Terrill was taking alluring women who were out in Africa for fresh thrills on safari. She would not think of those other nights, nights when he was there beside her and all else was forgotten, when his strong hands touched her hungrily and his eyes glowed like an animal's in the moonlit darkness and he whispered, 'You want me—admit it, my lovely one.' Not so much a question as a confident statement of fact, an arrogant, overwhelming assertion confirmed by his deep and savage kisses.

She must banish from her mind all thoughts such as that. She had known it would be difficult coming back to the part of Africa that had once meant so much to her and the man with whom as a young girl she had been so besotted, but she had learned long ago to control her wayward emotions, and for five years, if she thought of Terrill at all, it had been with nothing but bitter regret that someone on whom she had expended so much passion had turned out to be such a small part of her life. The one thing she had learned was that love doesn't last, and it had made her very cautious about ever again letting herself become involved so emotionally with any other man. They had arrived at the car park and Terrill was loading their scanty luggage into the vehicle. A Range Rover, of course. 'Your gear is very light. It doesn't look as if you intend to make a long stay,' Terrill remarked as he slung their bags easily into the back. 'I believe in travelling light,' said Fern. 'I'm good at advising my customers what to take to Africa. One should discard anything superfluous, don't you agree?' 'Such as the odd husband?' She chose to ignore this remark, just as she chose not to notice the strength of his hands as he helped her into the high vehicle. He had guided her into the back seat and put Crispin beside him. Crispin was obviously delighted, but glanced back rather apologetically at her. 'Did you want to sit next to Terrill, Mum?' 'By no means. I'm quite happy where I am.' But he didn't need to make it so plain that I'm the superfluous passenger! she thought to herself.

The buildings of the town around the airport were as sophisticated as those of any modern city, but they were soon out of it, and within a few miles, they were on heavily corrugated roads with clouds of dust flying away behind the large vehicle. They, passed fields of millet and sorghum with groups of grass huts shaded sometimes by banana plantations. Women in gay cottons were working in the fields, and the sound of singing came to them above the noise of the car's engine. Fern sat silent in the back, looking at the landscape which now seemed so strange and yet was heartbreakingly familiar, but every so often her attention would be drawn back to the two heads in front of her, the dark copper colour of hair so alike, but Crispin had the white tender neck of a child and Terrill had the strong brown muscular neck of a man above those broad shoulders. They seemed to have quite forgotten her presence in the back. She could hear Crispin's high clear voice and half glimpse the responsive charming smile that Terrill gave to their son. We've been here only a little while, she thought, and already Crispin is completely under his spell. How could I have left him to come out here alone? He needs someone here to remind him of the home and country where he normally lives, doesn't he? Otherwise, who knows? I could easily lose him to his father's careless charm. After some miles, the aspect of the countryside changed. There were no longer signs of human habitation but rolling plains with scattered umbrella- shaped trees above a sea of grass. The grass was brown and looked dry and lifeless, and the air was blue and hazy. Crispin turned around, as if suddenly remembering her presence in the back, wanting to share his thrill at being back here, she supposed. 'Look, Mummy, now we're getting really into Terrill's own country!' Africa. For years she had tried to banish the thought of it, but now she remembered how she had felt when she had first seen this wild

landscape. Just seventeen, she had been accompanying her father who was fulfilling some long-held dream of travelling on safari in the heart of Africa. As now, Terrill had met them at the airport, and she had sat silent in the back of the vehicle, overawed by the physical splendour of this man of a type she had never before met. She had not known what to expect, but somehow she had not anticipated this wide flat country stretching away on a sea of dry grass towards the far horizon that was blue with a suggestion of distant hills. Even the trees looked strange, flat- topped, spreading and isolated. Half turning, for the first time, Terrill had addressed her directly. 'Well, what do you think of your first sight of the real Africa, Miss Kendrick?' His voice had been deep and resonant, and the clear-cut image of his profile seemed to burn itself on her mind before he turned back to the wheel. 'It isn't what I expected,' she had admitted. 'What were you expecting? A jungle?' 'Something like that, I guess.' 'Most people do. Picture books for the young invariably place lions in jungles, whereas they're creatures of the savannah country. Don't they teach you that at school, Miss Kendrick?' He must think I'm an infant! she thought. 'I've left school, and my name is Fern,' she told him distantly. However, he charmed her once more when he said, 'A very suitable name. Ferns grow in cool English woodlands. It's a treat to find one in this part of Africa.'

That was the beginning of it, she thought now. How could I possibly have foreseen that ten years later I'd be driving with Terrill over the same route feeling much older and much wiser? And with our son. Crispin is the only good thing that came out of all my heartbreak. 'One thing hasn't changed,' she commented now. 'The road is no better.' Up to this point it had left a lot to be desired, but now it had become even more corrugated. There were deep potholes, difficult to avoid, and on the back seat she was bounced around from one side of the car to the other. Dust began to filter into the vehicle, making her mouth dry and feeling gritty on her teeth. How well she remembered this discomfort! She could feel herself perspiring and beginning to stick to the seat, and she wished she had had the sense to shed her tights before she left the airport. 'I hope you're not finding it too hot,' said Terrill, as if reading her thoughts. 'This vehicle has air- conditioning, but I never use it unless I have to—I like to be able to smell the countryside. I should think you would appreciate that too, it's such a long time since you've had that pleasure.' It would never occur to him, thought Fern, to ask whether I would prefer the air-conditioning to be working. I'm just an unwelcome exwife to be dumped into the back seat. Why should he worry about my comfort? As to the smell of the countryside, could one really smell anything except the all-powerful, penetrating dust? She sat quietly, trying to breathe in any other remembered odours in this land that in five years had become alien and strange. At first there seemed to be nothing save that of the dust and a rather overheated car, but then her nose began to distinguish other things— a smell of wood- smoke, the fragrance of wild grass mingled with some kind of heavy scent of lilies. And what was that? The faintest

hint of some rank animal smell. It introduced a savage note into the drowsy heat of the African plain, and brought back memories of that long-ago tragedy that time had since blurred. This was what she had feared when she had reluctantly consented to come here. Over the years the memories of her stay in Africa, the saddest and yet at times the most joyous that she had ever known, had grown dim. When she had left Terrill, she had been determined she would forget everything, but now just the smell of Africa through the half-open window of the car had brought back a terrible nostalgia, a sad, bitter regret for a life she had deserted. But I wasn't really suitable for a life in the wilderness, she thought now, and Terrill never really loved me. So what possessed him to marry me after my father was killed? Was it because I pressed him, or did it salve his conscience somehow? For the safari that had started with such light-heartedness had ended in tragedy for herself and her father. He had been trampled by a rogue buffalo before Terrill could use his gun to save him—the only fatality that had ever occurred on these well organised expeditions. It had happened towards the end of their time in Africa, just before they were due to return. By that time Fern had known that she was quite hopelessly in love with Terrill. The tour through the wilderness seemed to her bemused senses to have taken place in a sunlit dream, from which she had been jerked rudely awake by this tragic happening. In her bewildered state of shock, she had turned to Terrill as if he were the only one who could help her. 'You must tell me how to contact your relatives,' he had told her. 'I have none,' she said. 'My father was my only relative in this world. My mother died long ago when I was a baby. I don't remember her. My father always promised that, as soon as I'd finished school, we would travel around the world together. Oh, Terrill, what am I to do now?'

The doctor had provided her with something to make her sleep, but Terrill had stayed with her through the long night and, when she had awakened occasionally from a fitful doze, she had been aware of him, wakeful at her side, soothing her with the strong brown hands that had caused her a shiver of delight if he had happened to touch her when they were on their wilderness trail. And it was during one of her wakeful spells that the idea had come to her. Why should she ever have to leave him? Why not stay here in this place, the nearest to Paradise she had ever met in her seventeen years of life, with this man who a while ago had been a stranger, but who now seemed to fill her whole life with meaning. He had fallen asleep at last, his head on her pillow, the long curling dark lashes sweeping his high tanned cheekbones. She had put out a hand and timidly touched him, then softly kissed the strong curves of his mouth with a touch as soft as the wings of the moths that were coming out of the moonlit night and hurtling themselves against the screens on the window. He opened his eyes, darkly golden, and saw her face so intimately close to his. 'What is it, Fern? Can't you sleep? Are you worried about what's to happen to you? Forget it, child. We'll find some solution.' "Oh, Terrill, please let me stay with you,' she implored, made bold by the intoxicating effects of the tranquilliser she had taken, together with the intimate sense of his nearness beside her on the bed. I won't be any trouble to you. I looked after my father for years— I could be useful to you. I know about men.' She could remember even now the strange smiling expression on his face when she had made this naive remark. 'My sweet innocent, you don't know what you're saying. You only met me two weeks ago. You don't know anything about me, do you?'

I know I love you, she had wanted to say, but even in her distraught state she had been too scared to confess this. 'I feel as if I'd known you all my life. Please let me stay here, Terrill. I could be useful to you. You said you were going to write a book about wild life. I can type. And I could look after your house for you while you're away.' 'There's more than typing and housekeeping, Fern, my dear, to living with a man. Unless you're visualising me as a father figure, too?' She put out her hand and timidly touched his lips as he lay close beside her. 'I know that, Terrill. I'm not ignorant. I know what you would expect if we lived together.' 'Do you now?' His lips curled in genuine amusement. He thinks of me as a child, she thought despairingly. How can I convince him that I'm not? 'I know you would expect to make love to me. Oh, Terrill, you can make love to me now if you want to.' Suddenly the whole tragic sequence of the day's events flashed back at her and, flinging her arms around his neck, she began to weep. 'Make love to me now, Terrill. Make me forget!' He cradled her in his arms as she was rocked by this storm of weeping. 'You don't know what you're asking, Fern. Do you really think me low enough to seduce you when you're torn apart by your father's

death? Close your eyes now—try to Sleep. I promise I won't leave you, but you must try to be calm. She lifted a tear-stained face to his. 'Now you're not so much like a Fern as a rain-soaked primrose,' he said gently. He was still talking to her like a child, she thought. 'Don't you want me like that at all?' she asked. 'Doesn't it mean anything to you that I said you could make love to me?' His hands were soothing, cooling her hot damp face. 'Of course it does. You're a delightful, attractive girl, but now is not the time. Try to sleep.' Her eyes felt heavy, but just before she closed them she murmured, 'Will there ever be a time, Terrill?' and she thought she heard him say, 'Perhaps.' What had persuaded him to let her stay? Perhaps he had felt some kind of guilt that her father had been killed while on an expedition in his charge, perhaps he felt some kind of compassion at her desolate state. Or maybe he had come to some stage in his life when he felt he needed a wife, and the idea of a young girl who could be moulded to his own ideas could have appealed to him. One thing was certain— that from the start there had been a desperate physical attraction on her part that she had mistaken for real love. When Terrill was with her she was deliriously happy, but she soon found out that she was not the most important item in his scheme of things. His life in the wilds meant much more to him than the few snatched days he spent with her between organising safaris for wealthy tourists, and it was this that had led to loneliness, to jealousy

and increasingly bitter quarrels. The arrival of Crispin, which should theoretically have drawn them closer, seemed to thrust them farther apart, for, as a young mother, she had become highly nervous of all the hazards of bringing up a baby in Africa. There were many of these all around her in their life in the bush. If she was not careful, monkeys often invaded the house. Scorpions and snakes were a constant threat. In the hot afternoons she sometimes took Crispin, who was just toddling, to bathe in a shaded pool, their favourite place, until she saw a baby crocodile also swimming there. Since Crispin's birth, Terrill seemed to have turned away from her, or that was how it appeared to her. Maybe she herself had been to blame as well. Perhaps she had been too absorbed in the care of a baby who had been difficult and restless in this hot climate during his first two years of life. She noticed now how other women looked at him and how elegant and beautiful the tourists seemed compared to herself. And after one particularly bitter row, Terrill had suggested to her that perhaps she would be happier if they were to part. 'The whole thing was a mistake,' he told her. 'You were too young for marriage to someone like me. The life of a bush-ranger's wife is too hair-raising. You'll be better off without me.' Fern had accepted his decision, too proud to tell him he was breaking her heart, and she had gone back to England and somehow got through those first empty years. He had provided well for her and the child, and the only condition of the divorce that worried her was that Crispin should spend one month of every year with his father. She had remained friendly with Adelaide, Crispin's grandmother, in spite of the divorce, and each year Adelaide had taken the opportunity of visiting Terrill while caring for her grandson on the long journey south. And if it hadn't been for Adelaide's fall on an icy pavement, this arrangement could have gone on indefinitely, perhaps, until Crispin was adult, and she need never again have met Terrill.

The nearer she drew towards the place where they had lived previously, the more she remembered of their life together and the more she wished desperately that she had not come. Yet as the heat became more intense, she began to feel drowsy in spite of the roughness of the journey. So the miles of wild country seemed to pass her by in a dream, and she was not aware of how far they had travelled until she realised they had stopped outside the entrance gate to the reserve, surmounted by huge tusks of elephants arranged in an archway overhead. 'Wake up, Mummy, we're here!' Crispin was nudging her awake. A very large, very black African was opening the gate, nodding and smiling, his white teeth flashing, and speaking in the strange tongue she had not heard for five years. 'Daniel—I'm here again! Do you remember me from last year?' The huge black man laughed with a deep-throated roar. 'How could I forget you, little lion? Samburu looks forward to greeting you.' 'Oh, and I'm looking forward so much to seeing him!' Crispin turned to Fern. 'Samburu is Daniel's son. We go everywhere together.' It was as if, thought Fern, the arrival at the reserve had loosened the links that bound Crispin to her. It was as if he was eager to hurl himself into a life in which she had no share, and this seemed to be confirmed when she heard Terrill say, 'Crispin has many friends here. He always settles in straight away when he comes to Africa, don't you, son?'

'Oh, yes. I wish I could always be here!' Then he glanced apologetically at Fern. 'I mean, of course, if you could be here too, Mummy.' It was as if Terrill had wished to emphasise the point that her presence wasn't really necessary, thought Fern, when he spoke to Crispin. They drove on slowly, the red dust streaming out in a dense cloud behind the Range Rover. 'Now you'll begin to see the animals, Mum. We aren't allowed to go at more than twenty miles an hour in the reserve, are, we, Terrill?' Of course Crispin had not really realised that she had been here before. She had hardly spoken to him of her life here when he was an infant. She had remonstrated with him once about his referring to his father by his Christian name, but had been told in no uncertain terms that Terrill had said he could. 'He's not like an ordinary father,' Crispin had explained. 'What do you mean by that?' 'I mean he's not stuffy. He's just great!' Now the late afternoon sun was turning the dry lifeless grass to a carpet of gold and upon this vast African landscape appeared groups of animals, graceful troops of antelopes, their pelts shining reddishbrown in the shifting haze. A group of giraffes crossed the road, their sleek hides showing up like yellow sand in the sun, beautifully marked with large brown rosettes. As the car approached, they stood still and turned their tiny heads with the liquid film-star eyes fringed with long lashes and gazed loftily at the vehicle beneath them, then, suddenly timid, they bounced away over the dry grass with an ungainly rocking-horse motion and sought shelter by one of the flat trees, proceeding to nibble its leaves.

'I'd forgotten how beautiful they are,' Fern remarked. 'It's so different when you see them here. In zoos they look slightly weird, but here they look completely natural.' 'Well, of course they do, Mum. This is their home. I wish it could be my home too. Why can't it be?' Fern was silent. She had not realised how strongly Crispin felt about this place. He's so young still, she thought, and of course everything about the reserve must seem thrilling to a child and he doesn't realise any of the dangers of living here. But this must have seemed a familiar theme to his father, because Terrill told him, 'Now don't start that again, Crispin, old chap. Just make up your mind to enjoy this month.' 'Right, but a month's always too short. I wish it could be for ever.' 'You know even if you did stay in Africa, you'd have to go to school,' Fern told him. 'You could teach me.' 'Now you're talking nonsense! I haven't the slightest intention of staying here.' She could not help it if Crispin had that hurt look that he wore on the few occasions when she spoke sharply to him. She could not bear the slight smile that she could see on Terrill's lips through the rearview mirror. What right had he to be pleased that Crispin should show so plainly that he loved being here? Of course it was more glamorous than going to school, and Terrill had a darned sight more charisma than any of his teachers. 'Are we going to stay in the same place as last time, Terrill?' Crispin asked now.

'No—by way of showing they were pleased with the success of tourism and the promotion of the reserve, the governors decided to have another house built for me.' He turned to Fern. 'You'll find it a little different from our previous house. We had to consider V.I.P.s who visit the place now, even though we don't run regular safaris as we used to do. The house has all mod cons, everything that opens and shuts. I must confess I found it difficult to get used to it at first after living most of my life in the bush.' 'But why aren't we staying in your old house? I liked it best of anywhere I've ever been,' Crispin complained. 'Too bad, boy, but it was practically falling apart. The termites had made inroads there, I'm afraid. These things happen in Africa—you know that.' 'But you didn't need anything better than that. I thought it was very exciting. Do you know, Mum, lizards used to drop from the roof on to my bed, and once a snake came into Terrill's room, but he soon got rid of it. What happened to the baby cheetah you kept, Terrill? Do you remember when it got into the kitchen and broke all the crockery?' 'I do indeed. We managed to release it back into the wilds. I don't believe in letting wild animals become household pets, but sometimes you have to care for them for a while. Wyatt's looking after a young lion at the moment. It seems tame enough, but cheetahs are definitely easier to tame than lions.' 'Will I be able to play with it?' asked Crispin eagerly. 'I shouldn't think so. I don't like animals getting too used to people if we intend they should go back to the wilds.'

'And I wouldn't like my son to play with a lion cub, however tame,' Fern added. 'Oh, Mum, don't be like that!' Crispin protested. 'You aren't going to stop me doing all the things I want to do, are you?' It depends what those things are,' Fern told him. Already she felt she was losing her influence over Crispin, and she was nervous of all the hazards that this month in Africa might bring. 'Oh, look, Mum—there are usually elephants when we get near to the camp.' The sun was setting, going down like a golden bubble that had been tossed into the heavens and was now descending. Against the blazing red of the western sky, Fern saw the huge shapes of elephants, silhouetted black as ebony against the sunset. The ivory of their trunks gleamed in stark contrast. 'I'd forgotten how amazing they are,' she said. Terrill had halted the car and, turning towards her, for the first time gave her a smile that was full of charm only for her. 'No need to be scared. They're coming away from the river below the camp after having their evening drink. If we were a bit nearer, we'd be able to hear the rumbling of the water in their stomachs.' 'I'm not scared,' she said; feeling herself gathering resistance against the effect of that smile. 'It's just that I'd forgotten what an incredible sight they are.' 'I'll grant you they're magnificent, but they, give us plenty of headaches. In a dry season they strip away every last bit of vegetation, and these days they're continually hunted by poachers. There's a thriving trade in illegal ivory all over the world, in spite of

conservation. It's because of the danger of poachers that we had to cut down on the safari trade.' 'Have you been out after poachers just lately, Terrill? Oh, I hope I can come with you this time when you go to find them!' exclaimed Crispin. 'That's One thing you're certainly not going to do,' said Fern emphatically. Two pairs of eyes regarded her. With their green-gold glow and their surround of long dark lashes they were amazingly similar, but Crispin had the large-eyed, accusing expression of a child, whereas the look Terrill was turning on her was more difficult to interpret. 'I hope I know, Fern, what's good or bad for my son. After all, it is my month to have him here. You have him to yourself for the remaining eleven. It was by your own choice that you came here, but I warn you, you're on my home ground now. There was really no need for your presence here. There are plenty of people around whom I can trust to look after Crispin when I have to be in the bush.' 'But Mummy wanted to come with me, didn't you?' cried Crispin, changing his allegiance and springing to her defence. 'If I have to have anyone to look after me, I'd much sooner have Mummy than anyone else. Specially not Annabel. I don't like her, she's too soppy.' 'Too bad,' drawled Terrill, 'because I happen to like her very well.' Now who's Annabel? thought Fern. Terrill's girlfriend? I could have expected there would be someone. It hasn't got to matter to me any more, has it? But oh, heavens, why did I come?

CHAPTER TWO THE sun had set with the swiftness that is usual in the southern hemisphere, and as they drove into the camp, it was quite dark. There was a kind of thick hedge encircling the place, presumably to discourage the animals from venturing inside, and there were several of the flat-topped trees that were typical of the grasslands. Lights lit up the pathways, and as they came out of the car, there was a loud chorus of crickets arid the penetrating note of a cicada somewhere close at hand. Fern had a vague impression of a large white chalettype house, which seemed to have a thatched roof and a wide verandah all round the building. There were lanterns lighting the verandah, but the windows of the house were dark. 'What's all this?' Terrill demanded. 'Why haven't the servants put on the lights?' He put his arm on Crispin's shoulder and together they walked up a flight of steps and approached the front door. Fern followed slowly. They seemed to have forgotten her existence. Ah well, she thought, it hardly mattered. She was longing for a shower and then some hours of sleep; it would be heavenly after the long plane journey. Suddenly, as Terrill opened the door, the place burst into life. Lights blazed in the large living room and there was a noise that to Fern seemed deafening and scaring at the same time. 'Surprise, surprise!' several voices shouted. 'Welcome to Fern and Crispin!' Whistles blew, drums banged and someone lit a string of firecrackers. The noise seemed to Fern to go on for ever, but suddenly it was over, and Fern felt the penetrating stare of many pairs of eyes and realised that there was not one person here that she had known before. Fern glanced at Terrill. He was smiling. With

something like shock she realised that he must actually be relieved that these other people had invaded his house on their first evening together, but why did she herself feel so jolted by it? Had she really wanted to be alone with Terrill and Crispin after all these years? The others hung back, looking a little sheepish after causing all the noise, but a girl with a head of short blonde curls came boldly up to Terrill and put her arms around his neck. 'Adelaide phoned, but she was too late to get you before you went to the airport, so we cooked up a party to welcome Fern.' 'That's terrific, Annabel,' said Terrill, smiling down at her. 'I'm always game for a party, as you well know. You know where the drinks are. What have you done with my servants?' 'They're hiding away in the kitchen, ready to bring in the eats—but, Terrill, you haven't introduced me properly.' Fern felt the cool grey stare of the blonde woman travelling slowly over her in a careful analysis. She was very conscious that she must look somewhat travel- worn in her crumpled cotton safari suit that she had thought so suitable when she had bought it in London a few days ago. The women here all seemed to be dressed in the height of fashion. Annabel wore a strapless short dress of some kind of clinging white material, printed with flaunting red poinsettias, and on her feet were high-heeled red sandals. 'This is Fern, Annabel. Adelaide rather conscientiously thought Crispin needed an escort, so she persuaded Fern to come. I expect she was doing it for the best, but I hardly think it was necessary—there are enough people around usually to keep an eye on him.' 'Of course there are. You know I always adore to have him with me.'

Annabel slipped her arm through Terrill's and gazed with those cool grey eyes up at him, only this time the eyes were not cool but sparkling with warmth and allure. Then she knelt down in front of Crispin and put both arms around him. 'Hi, Crispin, aren't you a big boy now? How you've shot up since the last time you were here! And you're nearly as handsome as Terrill.' Crispin shrugged himself away from her. 'Boys usually do grow in a year,' he informed her. 'And I'm not as good-looking as Terrill. No one ever could be.' Annabel laughed, with a silvery tinkling sound like water falling upon a stone. 'That's a compliment for you, Terrill, and I'm inclined to agree with him.' 'However, there's no need for Crispin to be quite so «rude to you,' Terrill said sharply. 'He's nearly dead on his feet,' said Fern. 'If you'll tell me where to go, I'll see to getting him to bed.' 'Yes, perhaps that would be best. I hope you'll wake up with better manners, my boy.' Crispin looked stricken, but only Fern seemed to notice. He was very pale and swaying with fatigue. 'I'll show you his room,' said Terrill. 'Help yourself to drinks in the meantime and I'll be with you in a moment,' he told his guests. There was a wide inner passage in the house that led to the bedrooms. It seemed a very large house with big airy rooms and cool

tiled floors. Crispin's room had obviously been prepared with care. It was the kind of room that any boy would love, thought Fern—white walls, red-tiled floor, woven rugs in bright primary colours, blownup photographs of animals on the walls, a stereo set and a collection of books about Africa. A tray with fruit juice, sandwiches and cake was beside the bed. 'Well, how do you like it?' asked Terrill. 'I liked my other room best.' 'That room was falling apart.' 'It was my room,' declared Crispin obstinately. 'I could keep things there, things that I collected. This room is too clean.' 'I'm sure Fern thinks differently.' 'I don't think she does. She knows what I like. I liked my other room—it was kind of cosy, with geckos coming in and big moths. You've even got screens on the windows here. Nothing can get in even if it wanted to.' 'That was the idea,' Terrill pointed out with a wry smile. 'Well, I can't stop here arguing with you, Crispin. I must attend to our guests. Oh, Fern, while I'm here, I'd better show you your room, too.' He left a rather disconsolate-looking Crispin and showed Fern another room not far away. This was a more adult room with white walls, floors of pale yellowwood, a large rug with a zig-zag design in soft earth colours of brown, rust and gold and curtains with a frieze of animals for a border. He's treating me like a stranger, thought Fern—but what had she expected? Certainly not the shared room of yesteryear.

'We usually have a few guest rooms made ready for visitors,' Terrill told her. 'We get the odd V.I.P. coming here to see how things are going. This should do for you. It has its own shower—I expect you'd be glad of one before rejoining the party.' 'Thank you.' Why did she feel so bleak when she contemplated the neat guest room? She shouldn't be remembering the large untidy room they had shared with its strong arched beams and mysteriously shadowed thatch high above her as she rapturously responded to Terrill's passionate embrace. She must think of practical things. 'I'll just see to Crispin getting to bed,' she told him. 'Can't he see to himself? Really, Fern, you mustn't baby him. Let him get over his mood. It's all nonsense harking back after the old house. He'll experience enough discomfort when we go on safari, if that's what he wants. I expect he'll be asleep in no time and then you can join us. Good of the gang to rustle up a party for us, don't you agree?' Fern thought she didn't really want to join this party of noisy strangers, but it seemed she had no option. Annabel seemed to be well in charge of everything. And I'm just a guest, she thought, and an unwelcome one at that. My decision to come was all so hurried that I hadn't thought of the possibility that there would be another woman here in his life, which was foolish of me, because there have always been other women. She went back to Crispin and found him standing near to the window drinking his fruit juice and gazing out into the darkness. 'I hate this house,' he told her. 'I don't know how Terrill could have moved here. It's nothing like the place he had. This smells of paint. It's far too grand for a game reserve.'

'But he has to cater for Important visitors who come here,' Fern pointed out. 'Oh, sure, it figures, and he has to please all those silly women who come too. Mum, why did you ever leave Terrill? You're so super, but now he has the most bizarre taste in women. That Annabel, she's really yucky!' 'How about a shower now?' Fern suggested. She wasn't about to get into a discussion with Crispin on the subject of Terrill's taste in women. The boy was completely exhausted after the long journey and he was disappointed that he was not to have Terrill to himself on the first night of his vacation. 'Terrill doesn't even like women much. He told me once he doesn't intend ever to marry again. But you wouldn't either, would you, Mum?' 'I hardly think so.' 'Maybe now you'll decide to stay with him.' Fern didn't answer. She had not realised properly what high hopes Crispin held about their meeting. He yawned hugely and drifted across the room to the shower cubicle. Fern unpacked his suitcase and put the small shirts and shorts into the built-in drawers, then she helped him dry his hair and get into the bottom half of his short pyjamas. He was tottering with weariness when he got into bed, and before she had reached the door, he had closed his eyes. But, just as she reached there, she heard a small voice say, 'I'm glad you're here, Mum. I hope Terrill will want you to stay.'

'What an idea! I wouldn't bank on it,' she said, but he seemed to be already asleep. Back in the room that had been allotted to her, she opened her suitcase and found a green sun-dress sprigged with a white pattern of ferns. It was not very grand, but it would have to do. Anyway, it was cool. She went to shower and was impressed to find a bathroom with waterlilies painted on the green tiles and fluffy towels of green and white. She felt wonderfully refreshed, but thought she would still have preferred a quiet evening to a rowdy party. A quiet evening with Terrill ... well, perhaps not. And it was far too hot to sleep. She pulled her damp hair up into a knot on top of her head and allowed one or two tendrils to escape on each side of her face, then she applied a little softly blended make-up and a rose-coloured lipstick. Then a few splashes of duty-free cologne she had bought on the plane. It had a flowery yet sophisticated fragrance with a jasmine base. It seemed to suit Africa, she thought. By the sound of it, the party was in full swing by now. A good thing Crispin was so sound asleep. Fern opened the door on to a wave of noise. This main room was very large and high, white-walled with a lofty roof of thatch, the intricate pattern of wooden poles lifting away into the shadows. The low sofas covered in brightly woven striped material had been pushed against the walls, leaving a space of polished wood in strange blocks of yellow and dark brown and, on this space, a few people were dancing to taped music, while others sat around with glasses in hand. It was all very different from the cottage in the bush that had been their first home together. Terrill had been talking to a group of people, among whom she recognised Annabel, but when he saw Fern, he came towards her. 'Has Crispin settled down at last?' he asked.

'Certainly. He went to sleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow. He was cross and a bit disappointed tonight—it happens to us all sometimes. I guess he'd expected to spend the first evening in your company.' 'Plenty of time for that. And you—were you too looking forward to an evening en famille?' 'Hardly,' Fern denied. Terrill put one long strong hand under her chin and tilted her face towards him. She wanted to shrug away from him, but was conscious of the interested gaze of the strangers on the other side of the room. His eyes had that golden glow she remembered so well. 'You've grown in beauty, Fern, but too many years have passed and that look of innocent youth has gone.' He seemed to be taking in every detail of her appearance, and she was suddenly conscious that the sun-dress, intended for beach wear, left her shoulders bare and revealed more than usual of the curves of her breasts. He smiled, and flashingly she saw the resemblance to Crispin, but here there was the charm of a mature man, a man who had always known the power of that smile. How strange his eyes were, green with small flecks of gold surrounded by black lashes that were far too long and curling to belong to a man, and his brows were thick, darker than the curling copper hair on his brow. His eyes lost that penetrating stare and now it seemed to Fern that again he spoke to her as if she were a stranger, a visitor to whom he had to be polite. 'Very charming, Fern. That dress really lives up to your name. Now I'm sure you need a drink. How about a Pimm's cup? That should be the most refreshing for you.'

She found herself drinking a long iced potion that tasted delicious. Exotic fruit floated on the surface, and she took the rich-tasting slices up with a long spoon. 'You must be dying for some food,' said Terrill. 'Come to the table and take your choice. The servants have been busy, thanks to Annabel.' 'I was trying to create something sensational for Fern,' said Annabel, drifting over to them. 'But I didn't have much warning. I've always wanted to meet you, Fern.' Again she gave Fern that X-ray stare. 'Oh, Annabel, can you introduce Fern to the food? I must see to the drinks.' 'Of course. What would you like, Fern? A lot of it is tinned. It's too hot to grow salady things here, as you probably know, but there's tinned asparagus or fresh papaya, then guineafowl or cold venison with a dish of sweet potatoes cooked with a glaze of honey. Oh, and there's plenty of pineapple too. Take your pick.' Fern helped herself to the delicious white slices of guineafowl and some salads. In spite of her weariness she was really very hungry. 'We usually have a barbecue, but we thought on your first night here you'd prefer something a little more sophisticated,' said Annabel. 'It's too bad Adelaide couldn't come. Terrill took such a lot of trouble to get this house ready in time.' Why should she feel nettled, thought Fern, that Annabel was so obviously used to playing hostess for Terrill? She herself and Terrill had been parted for five years, so how could she expect to come back and not find another woman taking her place? All the same, it was an odd feeling. She could not help wondering whether Terrill was very much in love with Annabel, whose silver-gilt hair somehow matched

the huge cool, grey eyes, but she was no ice maiden when she was near Terrill, that was for sure. 'Is your husband a game ranger too?' she asked Annabel, curious to know what she was doing in the reserve. 'Oh, no, my dear. No, actually I'm between husbands at the moment. I'm spending some time with my brother Wyatt, getting over a bad marriage, getting over my divorce. Wyatt is the game ranger in the family. That's him over there.' She pointed to a tall, hefty man who was trying to balance a tankard of beer on his head. He was blond too, but with a shock of corn-coloured hair that contrasted sharply with his tanned skin and eyes of vivid blue. 'He's a bachelor still, and I spend the odd month here now and again. I've been spending more time here since my divorce. Lots of lovely men around here, and they're always game for a party.' It was true, thought Fern. The rangers were an exceptionally handsome group of men. And yet Terrill seemed to stand out even among his companions. She hated to admit it, but he was the most impressive of them all. What made him so impressive? she wondered. Was it his height and the whipcord strength of his lithe slim body or the clear-cut set of his features? But the other men were almost as tall and strong-looking. Wyatt, for instance. He looked like some modern version of a Viking. Yet there seemed to be something about Terrill that made him the centre of this crowd of vigorous men. It was not just Crispin's childish adoration that set him above the others. I hope I've grown out of his appeal to me, thought Fern. He's far too sure of his own power to charm. He always has been. It was fatal to me when I was younger, but not now; I know too much about him. Having allotted her a room and attended to her refreshment, Terrill took no more notice of her. He came and swept Annabel away, and

Fern watched them as they danced. They made a handsome couple, he laughing and obviously flirting with Annabel, who was gazing up into his face with full rosy lips half open and much fluttering of long curling lashes. His dark brown hand was on the honey-gold of her back where the chalk-white dress was cut low to the waist above the abbreviated skirt. He seemed to have completely forgotten the presence of his ex-wife and to be making the most of the party. In fact everyone except herself seemed to be enjoying the party hugely. One or two women drifted over and made polite remarks about her journey, but soon went back to where the crowd of men stood at the end of the room where there was a curved bar for serving drinks. Great blasts of laughter came from that direction. Wyatt, of the Viking appearance, seemed to be the centre of attraction, balancing bottles of beer on his head and following this by putting his hands on the shining wood of the counter and jumping over it, much to the danger of the glasses and drinks that were assembled there. 'That's enough, Wyatt, give it a rest,' she heard Terrill say mildly from where he and Annabel were still floating romantically embraced on the dancing space. 'I don't want my place wrecked when I've only just built it!' Even in his inebriated state, Wyatt seemed to take notice of Terrill's voice, for he quietened down, poured himself a whisky and, looking around, set his eyes on Fern and wandered rather unsteadily in her direction. 'So you've come all the way from England to visit Terrill,' he said, his voice a little slurred. His hand grasped Fern's bare shoulder as if to steady himself, isn't he the lucky guy!'

'Not at all,' Fern told him. 'I only came because Adelaide couldn't make it.' 'So I heard, but you must have had some curiosity about Terrill after all this time.' 'Possibly.' His slightly bloodshot eyes regarded her very carefully. 'When we heard you were coming, we were all dying of curiosity. There was hardly anyone here now who could remember you from that other time, and we couldn't imagine Terrill with a wife. But you must have been very young when you married him. Imagine him falling for someone as young and innocent as you must have been then! What are your plans now? Are you intending to stay? Is there to be a grand reconciliation— or shouldn't I ask?' 'No,' Fern told him. 'I'm just here for a month.' Too bad. We need all the female company we can get around here. Well, we must make the best of your time here. How about a dance now?' Without waiting for her consent or otherwise, Wyatt seized her around the waist and waltzed her out on to the space where the others were dancing. Until now Fern had been feeling rather conspicuously alone, but she decided now that this was worse, being whirled round and round in the middle of the dance floor in full view of this crowd of strangers who were immensely curious about her former relationship with Terrill. Wyatt was holding her much too closely. His large hot hand was at her waist and his face, ruddy and tanned, came down on her cheek. She was aware of cheers from the direction of the bar.

'Good old Wyatt! He's doing all right. Trust him to make the grade!' 'You do have the most enormous eyes,' Wyatt said to her. 'You're a very attractive girl. I'm surprised Terrill ever let you go.' 'Being attractive has nothing to do with it. That's all over. I'm not needed here,' Fern assured him. 'Who says so? I need you. You're just what I want right now.' And in the middle of the room, with his mates shouting encouragement, he planted a rather beery kiss on her, unsteadily missing her mouth. Fern looked round to see " if Terrill was witnessing Wyatt's behaviour, but he and Annabel seemed to have disappeared. The couple of other women present seemed to be gazing at her disapprovingly, as if all this was her fault. 'Look, will you excuse me?' she said. 'I'm very tired and I really need my sleep. I think I'll go to bed now.' Wyatt still held her far too tightly, and now he thrust back his bulllike head and gave a great roar. 'Great idea! Can I come too?' 'Indeed you can't. Thank you for the dance, and good night now.' She managed to get away from that strong vicelike grip and made her way hastily to the nearest door. She had thought it was the door that led on to the passage, but instead it was another door leading on to the wide verandah. She glanced behind her and saw that Wyatt, who had made to follow her, was now being detained by his friends, so she closed the outside door to make sure she was not followed. In Wyatt's present state, she felt sure his undue interest in her could easily be diverted, but she did not want to risk going back for a while. She made her way to the end of the verandah and looked up

into the starry sky. How peaceful it seemed out here after the heat and noise of the room! How strange the sky looked when one was accustomed to the northern hemisphere with its frequent clouds and scattered stars. Here the sky was a deep velvety dark blue and the stars were thrown over the heavens like a million glittering diamonds. The night was warm and still, with a small cool breeze occasionally wafting some indefinable fragrance towards her, something heady and alluring, bringing to mind lilies with heavy golden pollen. She heard the door open on to the verandah and felt she could not bear to go into that hot, noisy room again and face the laughing crowd of strangers, so she made her way down the steps and into the dark area beyond the lights. It was not exactly dark, for there were lights here and there outside the various thatched chalets belonging to the other game rangers, but, after being in the bright lights of the house, it was difficult to see the path. There were all kind of strange noises. It seemed to Fern as if all the insects in Africa were out here, whistling and uttering piercing sounds that shrilled in the ears quite deafeningly. The pathway led to a high fence and she could go no farther. She leaned against the wire, gazing into the darkness, and other sounds came from there, weird noises that she only half remembered and could only guess at their origin. Something out there was screeching on a high alarmed note and there was a sound of cackling laughter as if a coven of witches was making merry at someone's expense. Of course, hyenas. But quite close by there was a deep, harsh, rasping grunt. Fern felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle and, in spite of the heat, she sensed that goosebumps had appeared on her skin. I'd better go back, she thought.

The lights of the group of chalets seemed quite a distance away from the fence. She had not realised how far she had come and she hastened her steps, eager to get away from this wild darkness. Her eyes had become accustomed to the dark now and her ears more attuned to all the weird sounds around her, but suddenly she was aware of another sound that seemed nearer and not on the other side of the fence. It was a low growl quite close by, just beyond the circle of light cast by the windows of the house. Could it be a dog? It could hardly be any other kind of animal so far within the camp, but it didn't sound like any kind of dog she knew. All at once, between herself and the longed-for haven of the verandah, appeared the shadowy form of a large beast, and it was looking directly at her. Oh, no, it was certainly not a dog; its head was too catlike in shape for that. With a sudden horrid realisation of her situation, Fern realised she was looking at the form of a young lion. Its gold-green eyes gleamed in the half-light and its jaws were half-open, disclosing a startling row of teeth. She opened her mouth to shout, but no sound came. It seemed years that she stood there trying to keep perfectly still as the lion gazed back at her, regarding her curiously with those luminous green eyes. Suppose she moved? Would the lion spring at her? She tried to stay rigid, but, against her will, her body began to shake and icy sweat poured off her skin; she could feel it running in chill trickles down her legs. On the distant verandah, she was aware of a movement. The beast also heard it and half turned. Now she could see that it was Terrill who stood there looking out into the darkness. The lights were so bright where he stood that probably he could not see the scene beyond his immediate neighbourhood. The verandah looked to Fern all of five miles away, but now at last she found her voice. 'Look out!' she shouted. 'There's a lion wandering around here!'

She heard some kind of muttered imprecation, and then she saw him go to a receptacle that evidently held some kind of sticks and seize a thick one. Meanwhile the lion had turned its attention to the movement behind it and, to her relief, its powerful gaze was diverted from herself. 'Shouldn't you bring a gun?' she shouted. 'I don't think that will be necessary.' While she stood in the shadows, she saw him approach the lion and gently turn it away from her direction with a touch of his stick. It gave a low growl and then, presumably at the sound of his voice, rolled over like a great puppy and pawed the air. 'Come along, Sheba,' she heard him say. 'What are you doing out of your pen at this time of night? We'll have a few words to say to your keeper tomorrow, but I'm afraid he's incapable of caring for you tonight. 'Come over here,' he said to Fern now. 'You may as well see where your wild lion is supposed to spend the night. Only she's a lioness. Wyatt can't have fastened the bolt securely enough.' Hesitantly Fern came a little nearer. 'There's no need to be scared. Sheba has been brought up in the camp from when she was a cub. Her mother was killed by a black rhino and it was the only thing to do, but we're hoping to release her into the wilderness later. She's fairly tame, but we don't want her to get too tame, however. She's pretty wary of strangers.' 'I can hear that,' said Fern, for when she stepped a little closer to Terrill, Sheba uttered a low growl.

'Don't worry about that. She's a little jealous like all females. She doesn't care for other women trespassing on her territory.' 'Too bad! Well, she certainly succeeded in warning off this female!' Terrill laughed again, and at this sound Sheba rubbed against him like a favourite cat, but Fern felt anger boiling up inside her at his casual acceptance of the fact that she had been half scared to death. It had always been like this. The things that had frightened her in the wilderness had been swept aside by him with casual ease. 'Do you have many animals wandering around the camp at night these days?' she asked him. He laughed easily. 'We hope not, but of course there's always the odd wild one that manages to penetrate the fence—and incidentally, what were you doing wandering around here at night? I realise you've been away a long time, but you can surely remember that in Africa it's dangerous to take anything for granted. Just because you're in an enclosed camp, it's not to say that you could not tread on a snake, which could be infinitely more perilous than encountering a half-tame lioness.' Fern shuddered. 'I'd forgotten about snakes!' 'Maybe you've been away too long,' he said. They had been moving towards a place not far from the fence where there was a construction of thick poles. Presumably this was Sheba's home. She had been following in docile fashion behind them like some well- trained dog, but now she turned and again snarled at Fern. Fern felt Terrill's hand on her arm. 'Don't show her you're scared. She senses when she has the upper hand—or should I say paw? In, Sheba, go back into your home.

You've had enough freedom for tonight. In a little while you'll be ready to join your friends on the other side of the fence.' Reluctantly Sheba. slunk back into the fenced enclosure, giving another low growl directed, Fern thought, at her. Fern felt Terrill's firm grip around her shoulders. 'Why, girl, you're scared stiff! One would think you'd never met a lioness before. Surely you must remember something of your life here?' 'That was a long time ago, and they don't walk around the streets in London,' she said stiffly. 'What about all these safari parks I hear about? Haven't you met them there?' 'It's just ever so slightly different meeting a strange lioness in the dark in its native Africa from seeing a lazy well-fed one sleeping around in a safari park. Wouldn't you agree?' 'I guess so, but you must have remembered when you decided to come that you'd meet plenty of wild beasts here. You must have wanted to come badly enough to overlook the disadvantages.' Fern was stung by his easy assumption that she had wanted to come here. 'You needn't think I was all that keen,' she said, 'but I did think my son would need some attention while you were out attending to your lions.' 'Not necessary. For most of my expeditions I intend he should go with me. He's quite old enough now to learn something of the wilds, and when he has to stay in camp, he's always got Samburu to play with and Annabel to keep an eye on him.'

'You seem determined that my presence here isn't really necessary,' said Fern, 'but I wasn't prepared to let Crispin come here on his own. I remember only too well how you would abandon me whenever the fancy took you to go into the wilds.' In the half-light, she recognised only too well the angry set of his lips. 'So we're to have this all over again, are we? The same story of my neglect! You still fail to realise that going into the bush is my work. How could I help it if we were separated for a good part of the time? It's not only my life, it's how I earn a living.' 'It wasn't my idea of a marriage,' Fern protested. His eyes glittered darkly and his teeth showed white against the shadowed lips. 'You were so young. I expect your idea of marriage was some small suburban house with your husband coming home in the evenings regularly as clockwork.' 'Not exactly, but—well, I didn't see the point of living apart so much.' 'So you decided to put thousands of miles between us, to be apart for ever,' Terrill drawled. 'I think you've forgotten one thing,' said Fern coldly. 'And what is that?' 'That it was you who decided we should part, and now you're free to do your own thing with no one to worry or hold you back when you want to do anything difficult or dangerous.'

'That's true. Of course it's madness for a game ranger to marry, but you were very young, very desirable. Tell me, Fern, it wasn't all bad, was it? We had our times of happiness, however brief. Don't you think now that it was worth it?' She was saved from answering, because from somewhere beyond the fence came a violent sound that seemed to shatter the darkness, a harsh chorus of roars most frighteningly close, and, from the direction of Sheba's home, there came an answering fierce series of growls. 'Evidently Sheba has callers,' said Terrill. 'Come closer to the fence. We may be able to see them.' Fern wanted to say that she did not particularly want to view Sheba's callers, but that strong arm was still around her shoulders, drawing her however reluctantly towards the direction of the terrifying sounds. The moon had risen, filling this wild landscape with silver-blue light, "and now Fern could see beyond the fence to where a group of lions moved, their shadowy forms only a few yards away from where she and Terrill stood. 'Night time is the time for lions,' Terrill told her. 'They're usually pretty, lethargic during the day, but come night time the world is theirs. Some zebra or wildebeest is going to pay for their hunger this night. Just look at that male lion! He's certainly some fine beast.' The male lion in the group was enormous, its huge ruff extending well on to its back. It lifted up its head and gave out a huge roar, beginning with deep moaning sounds and ending with low grunts that seemed to thud like a drum upon the warm air. Fern could not help it that her whole body jerked at the sound, and Terrill, who was still holding her round the shoulders, now stroked her reassuringly—as if,

she thought indignantly, she were some kind of cat that had to be soothed. She was too much aware of the strong hand that was caressing the smooth skin of her bare shoulder in the scanty sundress. Who would have thought this time last week that she would find herself in this odd situation, contemplating these enormous lions beside a man who had once been her whole life but who now seemed a stranger? And yet his touch was not strange; it was all too familiar. 'How smooth your skin is, Fern,' she heard him murmur, his lips against her hair. 'Never anyone else with skin as smooth as yours.' She felt his hands caressing her upper arms and bare shoulders, traversing the line of her neck, putting aside the thin strap of her dress until one hand came to rest, gently cupping her breast. A pulse seemed to beat dizzyingly in her ears and, as his mouth sought hers, she seemed to have swung back in time. The lion roared again and she was back here in the present. 'No, Terrill,' she said. 'Let's get this clear. I came only to obey the law that says Crispin should come to you for one month in the year. It also says that we no longer have any relationship. Let's keep it that way, shall we?'

CHAPTER THREE FERN woke to the sound of birds. There were clear calls so musical that one would have imagined an unseen orchestra was parked outside the window. Ah, there was one call she recognised, the persistent plaintive cooing of a dove, making a monotonous background to the more exotic sounds. She rose from her bed and, looking through the window, saw a flash of emerald and scarlet as a malachite sunbird sipped deep of the honey in the flower of a red aloe close by. At this time of the morning the air was fresh and cool, the sun not yet risen to its burning mid-morning heat. She heard children's voices and saw that already Crispin was playing with an African boy in the dusty area outside the house. This of course must be the famous Samburu. He was a bit bigger and stronger-looking than Crispin, and his white teeth flashed in a dazzling smile as he and Crispin chattered in what seemed a mingling of English and that other strange-sounding language. Already, it seemed, she was being proved unnecessary for the care of Crispin in the camp. There was a knock at the door and a smiling young African stood there with a tray in his hands which, after greeting her, he placed on a table near to the window. He wore a white uniform of shorts and loose shirt. His skin was jet black and his ears distended by discs of ear-rings. Evidently she was not to eat with Terrill, and she felt rather relieved. The sun was just coming over the trees around the camp, glinting through the leaves on to the crystal glass of the marmalade jar and the polished silver of the coffee pot. There was toast and scrambled eggs under a silver dome. It all seemed more civilised than she remembered from her previous time here. Of course, it had not been the same camp. Everything seemed more sophisticated now. After eating a hearty breakfast, she washed and dressed in blue cotton slacks and a blue and white striped jacket top that enhanced the vivid

blue of her eyes. Now she felt ready to face whatever the day might hold in store for her, and she strolled out to the sandy patch in front of the house where Crispin and his friend were playing. They had sticks in their hands and were busily stirring them into the ground. 'What are you doing?' she asked them. 'We're looking for cooly cumbers.' 'What?' 'You look for a hole like this in the. ground, then you put a stick into it and stir and say, "Cooly, cooly cumber, come out before the doctor comes".' 'And does it?' queried Fern, smiling. 'Oh, yes, just look!' Crispin stirred vigorously and sure enough out came a large insect. 'It's a lion ant,' he explained. 'Sam thinks it's magic, but it's not. It comes up because it's waiting for something to eat and it feels the vibration and thinks it's going to get something. It must be very disappointed when it sees only us.' He laughed heartily. He seemed so relaxed here, thought Fern. He had settled in here straight away as if he had never been away. 'Terrill is waiting for us,' he told her. 'We thought you were never going to wake up. I wanted to wake you, but Terrill said we were to let you sleep. He's going to take us out into the reserve.' 'I'll go and tell him we're ready,' said Fern.

Terrill was standing near a Land Rover talking to Wyatt, who looked none the worse for his indulgences of last night. 'Ah, there you are at last! You seem to have slept well.' 'She looks very bright and blooming, doesn't she?' said Wyatt. 'Can't you persuade her to stay here, Terrill? Any attractive female is an addition to this camp, you must admit.' 'I see your point, but I hardly think she'll consent. She had enough of life in the bush some years back. She didn't take to the life of a game ranger's wife, did you, Fern?' I didn't take to life as your wife, she wanted to say. 'I propose to take you and Crispin around with me today,' said Terrill. 'How does that suit you?' 'You really needn't put yourself out for me. I'll be quite content to stay in the camp,' Fern told him. 'Oh, no, we must show you around after all this time. Crispin wants to see the reserve, even if you don't.' Soon they were all bundled into the front of the Land Rover, the two little boys at the side and Fern in the middle. She was pressed up against Terrill, his hand brushing her knees as he changed gear, her shoulders against the bulk of his own. But he seemed to take it for granted, so she supposed she must too. The boys chattered together in a world of their own, and she could not think of anything to say to him. And yet she remembered a time when she had wanted to pour out to him every secret thought. She glanced aside at him. How strong his face looked seen sideways on, the craggy profile, brown and proud, like some eagle confident that everything around him belonged to his world.

His strange gold-green eyes caught hers in a moment that seemed long to her, and yet he could not have taken his eyes off the rough road for more than a couple of seconds. What was he thinking, with that odd enigmatic smile on his lips? Was he remembering the scene of last night, or could he be going back as she was now to that other time when they had first met on safari and she had believed he was the most wonderful male she had ever met? The morning still held its glowing promise. Groups of antelope as golden as the landscape around them leapt and cavorted in an excess of high spirits, butting each other and playing in graceful displays of acrobatics. 'What are those odd-looking beasts with black faces? I've forgotten,' Fern asked. 'Those are gemsbok. They have such long horns that early explorers thought they'd found the unicorn. Seen sideways on their horns could be mistaken for one long one.' 'Oh, yes, I remember now. I always loved those odd black masks above the grey pelts.' 'Yes, they're likeable creatures. Easy on the eye, unlike those wildebeest over there. God's hand must have slipped when he invented those.' There was something ludicrous and ungainly about the group of gnu which fled in unseemly panic away from the vehicle. They tossed their odd topheavy heads with their Roman-nosed profiles that seemed so out of proportion to their slender rumps, grunting warnings to their companions.

'When can we get out of the Land Rover, Terrill?' demanded Crispin. 'It's boring going around in a vehicle. I'd much sooner go on foot like you usually do.' 'All in good time, boy. Your mother hasn't seen this country for five years, so we must show her more than would be possible while walking. That can come later.' 'Will Mum go with us when we're on safari?' 'I hardly think she'll want to. We can do without women when we journey into the wilds.' 'There speaks the male chauvinist!' said Fern crossly. 'Don't get me wrong. I've no objection to women in the right situation. You should know that I like women well enough, and when I'm being paid to do it, I have no choice but to take them on safari, but by choice, I prefer male company.' 'You could have fooled me,' said Fern. 'There was a time when it didn't seem to you a total disaster to have to take women.' 'Oh, I guess it had its attractions when I was younger.' 'You mean it pleased you to play the Great White Hunter with all those sophisticated women from New York?' 'Maybe it did. You always thought so anyway, but as one gets older flattery can become tiresome, and women's reactions on safari are rather boringly alike.' They had forgotten about Crispin, who said now, 'Mum's different from most women. She never screams if she sees a spider in the bath, do you?'

'Hardly,' Fern agreed, 'but I'm not sure about meeting a snake.' 'They don't do anything. They're more frightened of you than you are of them, aren't they, Terrill?' 'Usually, but you must treat them with respect, just as you must treat everything around here. Now how about keeping quiet while we watch at this waterhole?' A natural spring here had been made into a pool surrounded by bushes and flat-topped thorn trees. They parked their vehicle and proceeded on foot through a passage made of reeds to where there was a hide from which to watch the visitors to the pool. For the next hour they watched as animals came and went. They all behaved differently in their need for water. The impala and other antelope were at their most timid, glancing around fearfully before they finally took hurried hasty sips. The giraffes laboured under the problem of their weird anatomy, splaying their long legs and bending their tall necks until their small heads reached the surface of the water. Warthogs ran forward boldly with their young families, tails upright like little flags, and the wildebeest pushed rudely at their crowding neighbours, as did the zebras, which more often than not lashed out viciously with their hooves in their eagerness to be the first to drink. There was a flutter of alarm amongst the animals by the pool and down through the trees padded a black rhino and his mate. They were so heavy, and yet they ran lithely, their feet barely touching the ground. The impala fled into the bushes and the giraffes retreated, peering anxiously over the branches as the rhinos stirred up the water and drank from the muddy shallows. Through binoculars Fern could see their wrinkled hides and lidded eyes like those of some prehistoric creatures.

'We're lucky to see black rhino,' Terrill told Fern. 'These days they seem a bit scarce. They were hunted out in the early days in Africa, and even now they fall prey to poachers because people still believe that the powder made from the horn is a powerful aphrodisiac.' 'What's an aphro ... what you said, Terrill?' asked Crispin. 'A charm to make someone love you.' 'Like magic?' 'Yes, but it doesn't work, I can assure you.' 'How do you know? Have you ever used it?' 'No, I can't say I have.' 'It could be useful,' said Crispin. 'Unfortunately that's what the poachers' customers think.' 'You could try it on Mum. Then she'd have to come and live here and I would too,' suggested Crispin. 'I hardly think she would appreciate being fed rhino horn!' Terrill's mouth was smiling, but Fern observed that there was a small frown, two little lines on his brow. He doesn't want me here, she thought. He thinks he can look after Crispin without help from me, but I'm determined to stay here however he feels about me. Crispin needs me here. The rhinos had gone by now and so had all the other creatures. They were not left wondering at this sudden disappearance for long. From around the dry, bracken- gold bushes, so small that it was difficult to imagine how they could have lain there concealed, stepped three

lionesses with four cubs. They crouched at the water's edge, lapping it like great cats. When they had finished, the cubs gambolled towards them and licked their mothers' whiskers. The mothers supervised the cubs' behaviour very strictly, seizing them in their mouths if they ventured too near to the water. 'Yes, they're very good mothers,' Terrill commented. 'And what's more, they have to do most of the hunting. The lion is supremely indolent. He spends twenty out of the twenty-four hours sleeping and likes his food brought to him if possible.' The sound of their drinking was carried over to the watchers in the calm still air, and then, one by one, the lionesses moved away, plodding steadily back to wherever they had come from, with the cubs trailing behind them or running beside them but sneezing as the great pads of their mothers flicked up puffs of dust from the sandy soil. Terrill and Fern and the boys drove on and picnicked under a flattopped thorn tree. They were sitting in the shade, all of them replete and contented, when Terrill said quietly: 'Turn your head slowly. There's a lioness concealing itself beyond that anthill over there. It's watching us. You can just see its ears.' Fern felt a cold shiver trickle down her spine, quite spoiling the warm peace of the African afternoon. She turned slowly as Terrill had instructed and with difficulty perceived the golden head of a lioness protruding from behind the golden sand of a raised anthill. She only saw it because the ears flicked, doubtless due to the attentions of some fly. 'What will it do?' she whispered. 'Shouldn't we get back to the vehicle?'

'No need for alarm—it's merely a spot curious. It won't attack us. You certainly have become a city dweller since last you were here! Go back to having a nap, I'll keep watch.' Fern lay on the rug and tried to close her eyes, but the thought of that lion watching her forced her to open them again. She could hear the scuffles of the boys playing like puppies some feet away and she could see Terrill sitting up, his green-gold eyes surveying the landscape. Overhead the dry leaves of the thorn tree rustled and whispered. Thinking of the things she had seen during the morning, she realised that she had forgotten what an enchanting place this could be. It was an alarming place to be in—and yet how beautiful! She dozed fitfully during the long hot afternoon, and whenever she opened her eyes she was conscious of Terrill lying at her side, his long-lashed eyes open and aware. Sometimes it seemed to her as if she had gone back in time and that it was the last five years that had been the dream and this was the reality. When she finally roused herself, as the shadows of the trees were getting longer, Terrill said, 'Are you awake, then? Hardly anything stirs during the hot afternoons. Even the boys have been asleep. Your lion seems to have gone on its way, and we should do the same. We should see plenty of game on the way back.' Now, with the sun dropping lower, the wild creatures were on the move again, going in search of water. Long processions of zebra and gnu walked in single file to the waterholes. 'They walk that way mainly because it gives them some advantage if a lion attacks,' said Terrill. 'There's safety in numbers. As in life, it's usually the stragglers and the weak ones who go to the wall. The lions have an infallible instinct for picking them out.'

He's like a lion himself, Fern thought. He never has had any sympathy with weakness. He never realised how nervous I was as a young girl left alone in the camp. They drove on, seeing hundreds of different animals on the way—antelope, gold as the vast African plains, zebras, fat and sleek and looking like stripey wooden toys, giraffes in stately groups, lofty and dignified as they fed delicately on the few green acacia leaves they could find. They were back on the track leading to the camp when Terrill stopped again. He motioned to Fern and the children to be quiet, then sat alert as if he had heard something that alarmed him. Above the noise of the engine, Fern had heard nothing. Terrill's reactions must be much swifter than her city-bred instincts. But what was it that had troubled him? They had come to a place where there was a spring of water around which at this time of day one would have expected various animals to be congregated, but there was no sign of life. However, there were bushes growing thickly beyond the spring, a little woodland of acacia trees and mopani scrub, their leaves brown and red with a kind of autumn colouring. The silence was absolute, even the usual cooing of doves absent. 'What is it?' asked Fern. A cold trickle of alarm had begun like a piece of ice thrust down at the base of her spine and causing responsive tremors in her inside. 'I thought I heard a shot. It seems unlikely so near to the camp, but I'd better go have a look-see. You stay here with the boys. Do you think you can drive this heap?' 'Yes, but...' 'Good. If I'm not back in fifteen minutes, drive to the camp and get some of the rangers.' 'But surely you shouldn't go by yourself?' she asked anxiously.

His white teeth flashed against the brown of his tanned features. 'Not to worry. The guys who go in for poaching are as timid as the lions when approached by man. They'll leave their prey pretty quickly if they think someone's after them. That's why I can't stop to gather reinforcements—I must see what's going on. I don't expect to catch them, but if I could just get a glimpse of them, I might know what I'm after.' 'It doesn't seem too safe to me for you to go there on your own.' 'I haven't time to waste arguing, Fern. You should remember, surely, that being a game ranger involves a certain amount of risk all the time. Now do as I say, and if I'm not back soon, go to the camp and raise the alarm.' 'Can't I come with you, Terrill?' asked Crispin. 'Most certainly not—and for my sake keep quiet. No chattering. Do you understand?' 'Yes, Terrill, but I wish I could come.' 'I know you do, boy, but you must stay and look after your mother. I'll be back soon. Whoever fired that shot is probably a mile or so away with all this arguing.' He got out of the truck and closed the door, taking care to do this quietly, then as silently as any of the animals they had seen he disappeared into the bush. Fern felt instantly bereft of his presence beside her. She realised now how much she had always relied on him to be with her on their journeys into the wilderness. She found some sweets in the lunch box for the children, and this seemed to keep them quiet, though in any case she thought they seemed a little subdued in comparison with their former high spirits.

The shadows were lengthening as the sun sank down in a haze of red dust, and Fern tried hard to conceal the fact that she felt extremely nervous. Every rustle of dry leaves seemed to set her heart pounding. And when some ibis flew overhead, shouting their loud calls of 'Hade-da', she could not help just about leaping from her seat. 'You don't need to be scared, Mum. Terrill knows what he's doing.' Crispin sounded so assured. I wish I had his faith, thought Fern. She looked at her watch, convinced it must have stopped. Every second that she sat in this lonely wilderness seemed like a year. 'Oh, look, vultures! They must be after something,' said Crispin. First one and then another of the great birds circled in the darkening blueness of the air. Their black shapes seemed to Fern to have a terribly malign look as they quartered the woodland and then descended with hoarse threatening cries. Crispin got hold of the handle of the door beside him and said to Fern, 'I'm going after Terrill.' 'You can't do that—you heard what he said. If he wasn't back in fifteen minutes we were to go back to the camp.' 'It's over the time now and he hasn't come back. It'll take too long to drive to the camp. Let's go and find him first, Mum. I can go with Sam. You can stay in the car if you're scared.' 'I'm certainly not going to let you go alone with Sam. Look, Crispin we'd better do as Terrill says.' Crispin thrust out his lower lip, and Fern could have laughed at his comic resemblance to Terrill if she had not been feeling so upset.

'I'm going after Terrill. You can't stop me. I'll go on my own if you won't come!' He made to get out of the truck, and Fern sighed with exasperation. She could hardly use physical force to stop her strong, determined little son. 'Very well, but I'm coming too. Sam, you stay here.' 'Sam had better come too,' said Crispin. 'He knows how to track. He'll be able to tell us which way Terrill went.' 'Oh, very well,' said Fern, giving in. 'But I tell you, Crispin, I don't like this one bit, and neither will Terrill.' 'But he hasn't come back when he said he would, and he always does what he says. We must try to find him— I know we must! And if you won't come, I'm going by myself.' He swung down from the truck and with difficulty Fern followed down the high steps with Sam, who jumped lithely and easily down. 'You see, I told you Sam could be useful,' said Crispin as Sam proceeded to lead them along the track where presumably Terrill had gone first. He and Crispin seemed to be able to notice every trace of footstep or broken blade of grass or trampled leaf. Fern followed behind, terrified that every bush might conceal a lion or other wild beast. Once there was a rustle amongst the dry leaves and Sam halted and, with a stick he had seized, made some movements backwards and forwards in the earth, and Fern saw a bright green snake wind hurriedly out of their path. There were more vultures now flying overhead and settling down some way ahead of them with what sounded to Fern malevolent croaking squawks.

At last they came to a kind of clearing in the middle of these woods. Here it was, the place that was attracting the vultures. The carcass of an antelope lay in the open space and around it the vultures were gathering, muttering and squabbling in an obscene haste to join in the feast. But where was Terrill? Fern had been transfixed by this horrid sight, but now Sam attracted her attention, pulling at her arm and asking her to diverge from the path they were following. She went after him, beginning to dread what they might find, for now the golden African evening seemed filled with a sense of death. Terrill lay some way from the track, stretched on the sandy earth. She went towards him with pounding heart, but as she came nearer to her great relief he sat up, holding his head. She saw then that his foot was caught in a kind of snare made of wire, which had tightened in a noose about his ankle. 'Fern, what the hell are you doing here?' he demanded. 'I thought I told you to stay in the car. Well, now you're here, you can help me get this damned wire from around my leg. I must have knocked my head on a log when I fell.' 'I told Mum something was wrong. I said we should come,' said Crispin. Terrill smiled, and at once Fern felt better. If he could still manage to smile at Crispin, he couldn't be so badly injured. 'Well, I guess for once you were right to be disobedient, but don't make a habit of it. Fern, could you see what you can do about trying to loosen this wire. I'm still dazed from that knock on the head and don't seem to be functioning properly.' Fern bent down to look at the snare, which was fastened tightly around his ankle, and she was shocked to see that it had cut quite deeply into the flesh. Not without difficulty she worked away at the

noose, and as soon as she had managed to loosen it, blood gushed out from the deep cut. It must have hurt him terribly as she did this, and her fingers felt as if they were made of lead. 'I need something to bind it,' she said. 'You'll have to have stitches in this.' 'Nonsense, it's nothing much. The bump on the head feels worse. Help me to take my jacket off and you can tear it up for a bandage.' Fern looked doubtfully at the firm texture of his safari jacket. 'No, I've got a better idea.' She was wearing a kind of camisole under her striped jacket. It was made of cotton trimmed with broderie anglaise. She was so concerned about Terrill that she did not hesitate in stripping this off. Then she proceeded to tear it up and made a thick pad of it, which she placed on the cut and then bound it around. 'This will have to do for now,' she said. 'I expect they'll do better when we get you back to camp.' The two boys, who had stood wide-eyed and shocked at the sight of Terrill's blood, now seemed cheered by Fern's immediate first aid. 'What happened, Terrill? Did you see the poacher?' demanded Crispin. 'I saw him all right. He was just preparing to load up the animal on his shoulders when I came upon him. He took one look at me and ran as fast as his legs would carry him—melted away into the bush. And then I tripped over this damned snare.' 'The vultures are eating his kill,' Crispin told him.

'Yes, so I heard. We'd better get going now. It's going to be a slow business getting me back, and the sun's just about to set.' They found a thick stick to help him along and, leaning heavily on Fern's shoulder, he managed to walk painfully back along the way they had come. When they came to the place where the antelope had been killed, the vultures were still busy, but at the sight of the little party, they flew protestingly away. Fern turned her face away from the sight of the once-beautiful animal, and just then, over the receding noise of the loathsome vultures, she heard a plaintive bleat, sounding like a young lamb. Crispin heard it at the same time and without a word dashed off the path and into the bush near at hand. 'Oh, look!' he cried. 'Look what's here!' Under a bush in a warm nest of grass lay a tiny fawn, its huge brown eyes too large for its small body. 'It must have belonged to the dead animal,' said Terrill. 'Too bad. It's very young, it hasn't a chance of survival.' 'Can I take it back to the camp?' pleaded Crispin. 'No, boy, we have enough problems on our hands at the moment without taking a young fawn that will be dead by morning.' 'Why should it die? It wouldn't die if we took it. I'd look after it. It needn't be any trouble to you.' 'Baby animals mean trouble all the time if you try to rear them. Believe me, Crispin, I know what I'm talking about. Now let's get the hell out of here. I've seen enough of this place for one day.' Crispin looked mutinous, his lips sullen, his brow frowning.

'It's cruel, Terrill! How can you leave that tiny thing to die all by itself?' 'Nature is cruel, Crispin. I know it's tough, but it would be crazy to take the little animal back to the camp. We've got enough trouble just getting ourselves back.' Terrill's hand reached for Fern's shoulder again and she felt the warmth of his breath close to her face. Slowly they made their way back, with Crispin casting many a worried backward glance. She could not share his anxiety about the fawn, for she was full of her own fears. The sun was very low and the woodland dark with shadows, shadows that she felt could turn into wild things at any moment. Something broke through the thickets and ran for cover, but it was only a zebra, although she could feel the startled beating of her heart for some minutes afterwards. What could they do if they were confronted by some beast like a lion with Terrill in this state? He hobbled along beside her, his hand warm on her bare shoulder, the blood trickling from the graze on his forehead and seeping through the bandage she had made on his leg. This is a fine state of affairs,' he muttered. 'Perhaps you'd have been better advised to go for help at the camp.' 'And leave you like that?' 'Well, maybe not. Thank God, there's the truck. Now let's hope you can drive it, because I doubt whether I can.' Fern had never driven such a large vehicle before, but with his advice she managed to get it going. The colour had drained from under his tan and she felt anxious because he looked so haggard and drawn. 'Mum's clever to be able to drive this truck, isn't she, Terrill?' said Crispin proudly.

'She'll do,' said Terrill, as the truck bucketed along the rough road. 'I bet she could look after that fawn too, if you'd let me bring it with us.' 'Let's hear no more about that. It was too weak to survive. Often you have to be cruel to be kind, Crispin—you'll learn that if you live here long enough.' It was almost dark as they drove into the camp, and Daniel was looking out anxiously for them. 'I was just going to ask Mr Wyatt if we should come to look for you,' he said. 'Go get him now, Daniel. I need some attention.' 'Are you going to call a doctor?' asked Fern. Terrill laughed, and in spite of his increasing pallor he sounded genuinely amused. 'Surely you remember that we're all trained in first aid here? Wyatt's quite capable of putting a few stitches in it if necessary, and we have the appropriate medication. There has to be a dire need such as birth or death before we call a doctor. A little cut like this doesn't count. Don't concern yourself with me, Fern, just see to Crispin and Sam. I think the boys have had enough for one day.' She felt herself dismissed, but lingered on waiting for Wyatt to arrive and take over. In a little while he came, accompanied by Annabel. She was looking beautiful, her silver-gilt hair in an aureole of curls. She must have come straight from the swimming pool, for she was wearing a very brief white bikini that showed a very great expanse of evenly tanned bronzed smooth body. She went immediately to Terrill and put her arms around his neck.

'My darling Terrill, what have they been doing to you?' she exclaimed. Terrill's strained expression seemed to relax and he put his hands around her naked waist. 'Not to worry, Annabel. I was unfortunate enough to fall into a snare. However, I caught a glimpse of our man. What do you say to that, Wyatt?' 'Good. Would you know him again, do you think?' 'Oh, yes, I'm pretty certain of it. It's amazing that they should dare to shoot so near to the camp.' 'Lucky for you it was near,' said Wyatt. 'Let's take you to the clinic where we can fix that ankle.' 'Right. Fern, can you see to the boys? You can order some supper for them at the kitchen. Can I have your shoulder to lean on, Annabel? I should think Fern has had enough of my weight for one day.' 'Yes, Fern, what were you doing to let this happen to Terrill? He's by far my favourite ranger.' With that Annabel turned away and made to support Terrill in his slow walk across the sandy compound. Wyatt was helping him on the other side, but Fern noticed that Terrill still had his arm around Annabel and her hand was tightly clasping his about her firm brown waist. She turned away, feeling dismissed, left out and alone, even though the boys, relieved of their anxiety, were chattering loudly together at her side. 'I wish we could have brought back that fawn, don't you, Mum? I'd have loved it all for myself. We shouldn't have left it to die. If only

Terrill hadn't been hurt, he would have said we could take it. I'm sure he would!' But Fern hardly heard Crispin's chatter. She was thinking that, when Terrill had relied on her help so completely, she had felt needed again. She had not felt like this for years. Her shoulder was bruised where he had held it so tightly, but that didn't matter. It had been a good feeling while it lasted. But she mustn't have such stupid thoughts. He seemed totally involved with Annabel, and she herself was just an unfortunate episode from his remote past, wasn't she?

CHAPTER FOUR FERN was awakened the next morning by a sound that at first she could not place, but then she heard the boys' voices and, going to the window, realised that the odd noise was caused by a bicycle being ridden around and around over the sandy ground in front of the house. Crispin noticed her and shouted, 'Look here, Mum, Sam has a bike and he's letting me ride on it!' Crispin was doing the actual riding, but Sam was standing upright behind him, his dark face split by a white-toothed smile. 'Be careful, Crispin. We don't want any more accidents!' Fern shouted, but they paid little attention to her, so absorbed were they in their turning of the dusty space into a speed track. The young African with the white discs in his elongated ears brought her breakfast again. He had brought her meal last night with a message from Terrill to say he thought she deserved a rest after the heavy day and might prefer to have supper alone. She could not help feeling that he was deliberately cutting her off from his life here, but what could she expect? She had burst in upon him uninvited after five years of almost silence. She was a stranger to him now, and he was treating her as one. She wondered how he was. He had been so dreadfully pale, sort of grey underneath his tan, that she had been thoroughly alarmed when she was driving him back. And that driving had been difficult, over the bumpy road in a large vehicle that she did not know. She had felt some kind of bond with him because he had been obliged to rely on her for help. And yet, when they had arrived back he had happily discarded this help for the more attractive aid of Annabel, almost as if he had been glad to get rid of her. It was stupid of her to feel an emotion she thought had died just because she had been forced by circumstances to help him. Thoughtfully she smoothed her bare

shoulder on which he had leaned so heavily. How had it felt to him? You always had the smoothest skin, he had said. Don't be a fool, Fern, she told herself. In those circumstances your shoulder felt just as neutral as that stick with which we provided him. It was you who felt stirred by his touch, and that indeed was crazy. The young African had taken the clothes she had worn yesterday to be washed. Miraculously the clothes she had worn when she first arrived had been returned to her room, looking very well laundered and pressed. Now she put on a simple dress of turquoise blue cotton with white trimming and a deep square neck. Presumably they would not go into the wilderness today, so slacks were not necessary. When she came out of the room, Crispin and Sam were still riding round and round the sandy track that they had made. 'Oh, I forgot to come and tell you—Terrill was asking for you a while ago. He wants you to go and see him as soon as you're ready,' Crispin told her. 'Where is he?'"She asked. 'He's sitting by the pool. He can't walk properly yet and he's pretty mad about it.' 'I suppose he would be,' Fern agreed. She made her way to the place not far from the house where there was a luxurious swimming pool, another of Terrill's new innovations. It must be a boon for all the rangers, to swim in here after a day in the hot sun. Although it was not yet noon, the sun was brilliantly burning and Terrill was sitting under a sun-umbrella in a cushioned lounger. He motioned her to come and sit in another chair by his side.

'Come and have a seat. I'm not very mobile at the moment, but if you want to, you could change later and have a swim before lunch.' She stood before him, looking down at his long length sprawled across the chair. He was wearing very brief swim-trunks and the whole of his deep-chested body was tanned to an even brown, in startling contrast to the wide white bandage on his ankle. With a sudden jolt of her heart, Fern realised that his body looked just the same as it had when she had so much adored it. She turned her eyes away and looked at the still green waters of the pool. 'I can't join you, unfortunately,' he was saying. 'No swim for me today. Wyatt has made a good repair job, however. I'll be on the go again by tomorrow, I hope. I'm just being lazy today. Why don't you sit down?' 'I hardly thought you would want my company,' she explained. 'Certainly I do. I hoped today yon would tell me about yourself. I have a certain amount of curiosity about this mature new you. You seem to have grown in beauty, that's for sure.' Terrill looked her up and down, and now there was something, a bright flicker in the slumbrous fire of the gold-green eyes, that sent a cold trickle of fear down her spine—familiar fear, the same kind that she had experienced when she had encountered the cold green gaze of the lioness. 'We've had so little opportunity to speak alone without Crispin around. Incidentally, where is he?' 'He's with Sam, riding Sam's bike. I hope they're safe doing that.' Terrill yawned lazily.

'Stop fussing, girl! I want my son to be independent. He's a good kid and you must quit babying him. Go and change into a swimsuit and keep me company. Catch a tan. You're altogether too pale for this country. My memory of you is glowing and golden.' Perhaps he's thinking of Annabel and comparing me to her, thought Fern, but she hurried off to put on a swimsuit, yet on the way she wondered whether she wanted to spend the whole morning alone with him. It was something she hadn't bargained for; he was usually away in the bush most days. Her swimsuit was a two- piece in a bright sunshine yellow that seemed to bring out the reddish glints of her hair. She felt curiously embarrassed at the idea of spending the morning with Terrill, clad only in these two scanty garments under that analytical gaze. Yet Annabel had obviously not felt any confusion when she had helped Terrill last night, and she had been in a scantier bikini than this one. What was their relationship? Fern wondered. She seemed very intimate with him—and I'm not, she told herself, not any more. She draped a towel around her and made her way back to the pool. Terrill had abandoned his seat and was now lying on a kind of mattress that presumably could be floated upon the water. He motioned to Fern to join him. 'Come over here. You won't get brown by lying on a chair in the shade, but that white English skin will need some protection. You always did burn easily: Have you any suntan lotion with you?' 'No, I didn't think of it.' 'I have some here that I haven't used yet. It saves you from having a skin like old leather.' Fern thought Terrill's skin looked anything but like old leather. It was a vibrant shade of gold, firm and warm-looking. s'

'Your skin is very sensitive, I remember. You have to be careful with those reddish glints in your hair, a sign of a sensitive skin as well as an easily aroused temper.' 'I never had an easily aroused temper,' she retorted. 'You could have fooled me,' Terrill drawled lazily. 'Better let me rub some of this stuff on your back.' 'No, not now,' Fern said hastily. 'I guess it would be better to have my swim first.' 'Suit yourself,' Terrill told her. 'Too bad I can't join you.' Fern went to the low diving-board and executed a neat swallow dive into the water. She swam slowly across the pool, enjoying the coolness of it. Why had she shied away from the idea of his touch? It was foolish, because deep down she had wanted it. But it was foolish to be attracted by the feel of his hands on her skin. He was a stranger now and must remain so. Otherwise it would be best if she were to get the first plane available back to London rather than risk any renewal of that physical attraction that had flamed between them so long ago. Was it wise to stay here? Perhaps not. But Crispin would be terribly disappointed if she decided to cut the visit short. In any case, Terrill would never let her take Crispin back with her when it was the only month in the year when he was allowed to have his son with him. In spite of what had happened yesterday one part of her wanted to renew acquaintance with this beautiful, terrifying place. Terrifying? Yes, it was certainly that, but the flicker of fear that was warning her she should go was not connected with lions, leopards or elephants. It was more to do with the foolish emotion that she felt when those gold-green eyes held her own gaze, and the trembling thrill she felt at the touch of Terrill's hand on her naked shoulder. Since she had left

him, she had known other men, but beside him they seemed like boys, and she had never felt any physical attraction to them remotely similar to how she had felt for him. Why should she, even after all these years, feel such sudden excitement at his casual touch? It could only be because he had been her first, her only lover, and this secret thrill she felt at his touch was only some kick-back to that former memory. She swam for several lengths up and down the pool, wondering whether she could find the determination to tell him she had changed her mind about staying and wanted to go. She did not feel particularly welcome here and she did not think it would worry him if she decided to go back on her own. But it would mean leaving Crispin. She knew he would insist on that. But I can't tell him now that I intend to go, she thought, not when he's injured and needs me to look after Crispin. But that's a feeble excuse. Crispin is quite capable of looking after himself. He does quite well in London. It's only I who thinks he needs guarding here. As she climbed out of the pool, she thought, when I've had today, I'll tell him I'm not staying— but let me have just one more day. When she got back to the mattress, Terrill seemed to be sleeping. He was lying on his stomach, the large length of his golden back turned to the sun. Fern dried herself and, stretching out her towel, made to lie on it. 'Don't do that. It's much more comfortable on this mattress.' He had not opened his eyes. The dark sweep of his lashes was still on his cheek. 'Come over here. What's wrong, Fern? There's plenty of room here, and you can't think I have any idea of seducing you. I feel far too incapacitated for that.' Feeling rather foolish, she lay down beside him.

'And you'd better let me put some lotion on your back, otherwise that lovely white skin will be a hideous shade of red by tomorrow.' 'I can do it myself, I think,' she protested. 'Nonsense, it's no trouble.' She felt his hands smoothing the cool lotion on to her warm back. 'There, isn't that better? Good grief, girl, you don't have to jump a mile when I touch you! Am I so repulsive to you now? I can still remember a time when I wasn't.' His hands, she thought. I'd forgotten how they could make me tremble with desire. Forget it, Fern. That was all wound up years ago. When he had finished, she lay there in the sun, the warmth seeping through her body. Perhaps she dozed for a little while, for she was aroused by his fingers tracing a pattern on her upper arm. 'Wake up! I think you've had enough sun for a first time. Go and sit on one of those chairs in the shade. I'll follow you soon. The sun's reaching the yard-arm—it's time we had a drink, don't you agree?' Terrill reached over to the table where there was a large brass bell and rang it. Quite soon Zebediah, the African with the decorated earlobes, arrived, and Terrill gave his instructions. 'A beer for me, and what for you, Fern?' 'Just something cool and long and not intoxicating, please.' 'Lime juice and ice, then. And perhaps a Coke for the boys. Are they still playing with Sam's bike? You'd better tell them to come here, Zebediah.'

The young African was away for some time and then he came back with the drinks that Terrill had ordered. He put the Cokes down on the table and then stood back. 'No can find Crispin and Sam,' he announced. 'Oh, well, never mind. They'll be here soon, I expect. They're probably playing in one of the huts or inside the house to get away from the heat.' Fern stood up. 'I think I should go to check,' she said. For some reason she suddenly felt uneasy. 'Don't fuss, Fern. They're old enough to be left. They'll come soon enough when they want something. Enjoy your drink.' She took a few sips. It was cold and delicious, but somehow she couldn't appreciate it. 'I'd rather go and look for them now,' she said. 'Oh, very well, but don't think you have to keep an eye on them all the time you're here. Crispin's old enough to have some independence of movement.' 'I know that, but I'd like to know where they are. Besides, their drinks will be spoiling. The ice melts so fast here.' She put a towel around her and went back to the house. All was quiet. No sign of the boys. The sandy space in front showed clearly the marks of the tracks where they had been playing previously, but now there was no trace of them or the bike. She went into Crispin's room and there, propped up beside a water jug, she saw a large piece of paper, with a message written in big wavering letters.

'Don't worry about us, Mum. We've gone to find the fawn. It's too cruel to leave it. We'll be all right on the bike and it won't take long. Sam knows the way. It's quite near to the camp, so we'll be back soon.' What now? Fern stood riveted with shock. If Terrill wanted independence for Crispin, he had certainly got it now! Why, oh, why had she ever consented to bring their son here? She had always known it was dangerous to let him come back to the reserve every year to be with Terrill. 'Did you find them?' queried Terrill. 'I hope you told them they aren't getting their Cokes unless they come here to get them. Why are you looking like that?' She handed him the note. 'Hell and damnation, what on earth were they thinking of, to go off on their own?' he grated. 'With your encouragement, they seem to have overdone the independence bit,' Fern said coldly. 'Can I get someone to take me and go after them, because obviously you can't do it?' 'None of the staff are here. Wyatt has taken Annabel into town to get her hair done and the others are all out on patrol. We'll have to go ourselves. You'll have to help me into the truck and you'll have to drive. Fortunately it's not far.' He managed to hobble to the place where the trucks were kept. It was a different vehicle from the one she had driven before and she had to get it out of the garage. She felt hot and sweaty with all the effort of trying to drive it, and her nerves were in shreds at the thought of Crispin and Sam somewhere out there in the midday sun and in goodness knows what danger.

The golden countryside around them looked so innocent, and yet Fern felt it was full of hidden violence—just as last night she had had a sudden sense of death, now she dreaded what could have happened to the children in this wild landscape. Bumping and lurching over the rough road, with many a grinding shift of gears, they at last reached the place where they had been last night. Fern thought that on her own she would never have been able to find it, for to her the countryside looked all alike. One copse of woodland was indistinguishable from another, but Terrill was certain of the place, and when they arrived there, they could see their own footprints scuffled in the sandy soil. 'I had hoped we'd come across them before we reached here,' said Terrill. 'They must have got a head start.' 'I should have stayed with them and not spent so long by the pool,' said Fern worriedly. 'Nonsense, Crispin is old enough to know it's not on to do such a thing. Of course, although Sam is the elder, he would do anything that Crispin urged him to do. Crispin gets too much of his own way in England, I guess.' All her tender feelings towards him seemed to have vanished as she felt wave after wave of both fury and anxiety welling up inside her. 'How can you say such a thing? It's you who seem to persuade him that he should be able to risk living in the wilds!' 'And so he should be, but maybe not just yet, not on his own. Now how are we to find them? Maybe I should try blowing the klaxon and see if we get any results.'

'No, don't do that. We won't know whether they've heard or not. It'll take too long. Obviously you can't walk, so I must go after them by myself.' 'Certainly you can make quicker progress on your own, but can you find your way, do you think?' 'I can follow the tracks. I learned a little from Sam last evening.' 'Take care, then. There shouldn't be any animals around at this time of day. They're all pretty somnolent at noon.' 'That's good. I'd better go now.' Terrill took her hand and pressed it reassuringly. 'Look, Fern, don't take any notice of what I said before. He's a fine little chap, and you've done a good job on him.' 'Yes, and I didn't do it so he could be lost in the bush!' she retorted. She was near to tears, but she knew that would be just a waste of time at this moment, so she stepped down from the truck and made her way to the opening that they had made last night when they tracked the route Terrill had taken. There, hidden in the bushes, was Sam's bike. Again she felt the blinding fear she had known when she had gone that way before, but she shrugged it aside and tried to think only of Crispin and Sam. Terrill had consented to her going on her own as if he had not thought there was any danger. This place was so familiar to him that it did not occur to him that she might be petrified. Her heart was pounding so loudly that she thought hopefully that the noise of it was enough to scare any animal away. She could see small footprints on the ground, but were they fresh ones or the ones from last night? She was not expert enough at tracking to know this. She tried to hasten her steps, but the roughness of the ground made it hard

going. The rustling of the dry leaves in the trees was enough to make her start with fright and look searchingly around. Once she saw some kind of small antelope in her path, but it looked at her, obviously more startled than she, and galloped off into the bushes, disappearing as if by magic. There were leaves underfoot and, remembering the green snake that had slithered away at the touch of Sam's stick, Fern kept her eyes sometimes on the ground but at other times giving hasty glances around her. She seemed to have come a long way, but it could not be very far now. Should she call out to the children? But, if Terrill heard her, he might think she was calling for help, and she did not want him to try to stumble along the path she had followed. At last she came near to the clearing where they had seen the dead antelope, and at first, dazzled by the sun, she was only aware that its bones had been picked clean and there was hardly anything left of the poor animal in this place of death, but then, with relief, she heard the sound of children's voices. 'Crispin, Sam!' she called softly, and went in that direction. They were sitting on the further side of the clearing, in the shade of a tree, and Crispin was holding the little fawn on his knees. It was evidently so weak that it had not attempted to get away, but miraculously it had survived the dangers of the night. Crispin was holding in his hands a bottle with a rubber teat and attempting to feed the little creature. 'Oh, Mum, we've found it! Sam says it's an impala fawn, so we shall call him Imp. Sam had this bottle that they used for the little lion. Imp doesn't seem to mind— he's taken half of it. We got some dried milk from the kitchen and made it up with warm water. It took ages to get Imp to feed, but now he seems to have got the idea.' Fern felt a wild desire to shake them both. 'I feel like knocking your heads together!' she said furiously. 'Whatever possessed you to go off on your own like that?'

'Well, I knew you and Terrill would have said we couldn't and really, Mum, how could we have left Imp to die? Don't you think he's beautiful?' 'Maybe, but Terrill isn't going to be too pleased that you disobeyed him. He didn't think it could live. However, now you've found the fawn, you'd better bring it along. But I don't guarantee that Terrill will say you can keep it.' 'Oh, but he must! He said he'd never survive the night—and look, he has. He's a brave little thing. He deserves a chance to live.' 'Well, we'll have to see what your father decides. Come along now— he'll be anxious. We must get back to the truck. You shouldn't have done this when you knew he couldn't come after you.' Crispin picked up the long-legged little beast and Sam led the way along the track they had made. Crispin was in the middle and Fern brought up the rear. Everything was quiet, for now the whole countryside seemed to be asleep, wrapped in a haze of heat. There was a sudden surprised exclamation from Sam, quickly hushed. He turned around to them and put his fingers to his lips, then pointed to a tree a little way from the track. Above them lay a leopard, its spotted length indolently stretched along a thick branch, its fierce whiskered head framed in the spiky shadows of a thorn tree. Please God, don't let the fawn bleat now, prayed Fern, for it had made plenty of noise when it had first started on the journey. But her prayer went unheard, for the little animal, disturbed by the break in motion, gave out a plaintive mew like a young kitten. Fern froze as the leopard's eyes opened and the cold yellow of its glance seemed to stare right into hers. Then it closed its eyes and resumed its slumber, looking graceful as some large elegant cat with its body on the branch and its slim legs dangling on each

side. Sam started to walk again, and Fern, after this heart-stopping moment, heaved a sigh of relief, while Crispin started to giggle. 'Crispin, how can you laugh?' she exclaimed. 'The leopard looked so funny, and you looked so scared!' 'It doesn't seem much of a joke to me.' They gained the road without any further adventure. Terrill had somehow got himself out of the car and was hobbling towards them as they came out of the bush. Crispin ran towards him, showing him the little fawn and, after he had set it down, Terrill took the boy up in his arms. 'Wretched child, how could you do this to us?' he demanded. And yet it seemed he couldn't help smiling. 'Can I keep the fawn?' begged Crispin. 'It seems I have no alternative now—but don't say I didn't warn you how much trouble a young animal can be. And I'll hold you responsible for its welfare.' 'Sam will help me with it, and I expect Mum will too. Isn't she good in the bush? She was brave to come after us, wasn't she? Even if she was scared of that leopard.' 'Good grief, boy, what leopard?' grated Terrill. 'There was one sleeping in a tree beside the path,' Fern told him. 'Not to worry. As you said, animals are somnolent at this time of day.' She was not going to let him know she had been half scared to death by it. The gold-green eyes were looking at her now. Could Terrill's expression possibly be approving?

'Your mother always had plenty of what it takes to live here,' he told his son. 'The trouble was she didn't know it at the time.' 'And I don't know it now,' said Fern decidedly. 'This is one awful place to live in, where you face wild animals at every turn.' And to her shame she burst into tears. His arms were around her now, strong and comforting as she remembered them in moments of crisis from the past. 'Still the same Fern,' he said, laughing at her. 'Sometimes nervous, other times courageous, always totally unpredictable. I thought you would have got over these storms of tears by now.' She remembered he had always hated to see her weep, and she quickly drew away from him. 'And so I have,' she said. 'It's just this place that gets me down.' 'And me, presumably,' drawled Terrill. His voice had lost that laughing tenderness, or maybe she had just imagined it was there, and his mouth now had that familiar cynical curl that she had long ago grown to hate. How could I have felt any comfort from his arms? she thought. We've gone our separate ways in life. And I'm not a girl any more. Nothing can ever be the same as it was then.

CHAPTER FIVE A WEEK had passed and the thought of telling Terrill she would like to leave had somehow vanished from Fern's mind. She had settled into a routine of giving some tuition to Crispin in the morning to keep up with his school work, but often, during the afternoon, Terrill took him out into the wilds, and sometimes she accompanied them. Evening was the best time here after the heat of the day. It was the dry season now, and she remembered that it lasted until October. The ground was sandy, the grass yellow and brittle underfoot, but towards evening a cool breeze usually sprang up and the whole countryside was bathed in hazy golden light. Then it was that one would see the dark shapes of elephants coming down to the river to drink, their ivory tusks gleaming, and overhead there would be the flashing pink of flamingoes' wings. Terrill had made a quick recovery from his injury, and tonight there was to be a party. Annabel, who seemed determined to make a long stay here, had rented a large furnished house, complete with staff, a little way from the reserve on the road into town, and she was giving a housewarming and had invited all the game rangers and some of her neighbours. 'You're coming to Annabel's party, of course?' asked Wyatt when he met Fern in the camp. 'I don't know. She didn't actually ask me and Terrill didn't say anything about it. Will she be expecting me?' 'Naturally. Everyone from the camp is expected. I'll give you a lift there.' 'Thank you, but what about Crispin? I don't feel I can leave him on his own.'

'Daniel's wife won't mind staying at the house,' he assured her. 'Surely Terrill wouldn't expect you to remain behind when there's a chance of a party?' 'He didn't say anything about it. Are you sure I'm supposed to go?' Perhaps he didn't want me at the party, Fern thought. She felt very awkward about going uninvited to Annabel's. 'Perhaps I should ask Terrill whether Annabel is expecting me?' she added. 'Too late. He's already gone to Annabel's to help with the arrangements—I believe they're intending to roast a buffalo. But take it from me, Fern, he'll be taking it for granted that you should come with all the rest. He wouldn't want you to miss the fun.' Fern still felt doubtful about it. She rather wished either Terrill or Annabel herself had- suggested she should go. She hoped it would be all right to go with Wyatt, but remembering his behaviour at the party on the first night here, she was not too sure. However, he had been quite well behaved and friendly to her ever since. He was a very exuberant man, full of high spirits, but she thought there was no real harm in him, so she would go with him. Tonight she wore her best dress, white lawn with insertions of white embroidery. Her shoulders were left bare except for the thin shoestring straps, and at last her English pallor was giving way to honey-gold. 'You look super!' Crispin told her. 'I bet you'll be the prettiest one there.'

'Hardly,' said Fern, 'but I appreciate the compliment.' She had twisted her hair up into a knot and tendrils of curls escaped on each side of her face. 'You look zowie,' said Wyatt when they met. He had an old rattletrap of a sports car which he proceeded to drive at a cracking pace over the bumpy road. 'I thought you weren't supposed to drive fast in the reserve,' Fern objected. 'Not to worry—we can't disturb anything at night. The animals are all too busy with their own affairs at this time.' It was true the few animals they saw seemed undisturbed by the headlights. They saw a couple of porcupines rattling their quills in bizarre courtship, and monkeys with pretty markings of black and white swung from branch to branch uttering loud burring calls. When they were out of the reserve, Wyatt drove even faster, but at last they came to the house Annabel was renting, and Fern felt somewhat relieved to have finished this wild drive. The house was very impressive, a large, long, low, white building reached by a circular driveway. There were coloured lights in the trees and two tall black men stood near the parking lot with flaming torches to direct the way. They were wearing starched white uniforms with red cummerbunds and, on their heads, red fezes. The guests were assembled on the wide patio at the back of the house and already there was much chattering and laughter. Below in the garden was a deep bed of glowing coals, and a giant African, with jet black shining torso and distended earlobes reaching to his shoulders was tending the roasting carcass of a young buffalo. Annabel looked like some exotic butterfly in a vivid silk dress in a variety of colours. It clung to her curving body in a sheath, leaving

her shoulders bare and displaying glimpses of slim brown legs where it was slashed from the ankles to the thigh. 'Hi, Annabel,' said her brother. 'I've brought Fern along. She was doubtful about coming, but I told her she needn't expect a formal invitation.' The cool eyes appraised Fern once more. 'Of course not. I expected everyone from the camp to come tonight. I had no idea you'd want a special invitation. What a quaint English idea! How sweet you look tonight, Fern. Doesn't she look delicious, Terrill? That dress is delightfully girlish. It suits your rather oldworld look.' They were all looking at her, and Fern immediately felt that the pretty white lawn dress, that up to this minute she had loved, was too young-looking. 'How have you disposed of Crispin?' asked Terrill. She thought there was a suggestion of a frown above the dark brows. 'Wyatt suggested that Daniel's wife should stay at the house,' she told him. 'I suppose she's quite reliable. If I had known you wanted to come, I would have suggested Crispin could sleep here.' 'Would you like us to go back for him? But he's asleep already.' 'No, leave it. There's no sense in treating him like a baby.' Fern began to wish she had stayed at the camp. But Crispin would be perfectly safe with Daniel and his wife. She had left him peacefully sleeping and he did not usually wake at all. Wyatt thrust a drink into her hand and soon left her to join a noisy crowd of his friends, but

she did not mind being alone. She leaned over the wall of the patio, looking at the moonlit garden and breathing in the scent of the tropical shrubs, the white jasmine spilling over the terrace and the frangipani sending up its perfume from somewhere close by. But soon Wyatt came back to claim her for a dance and she was whirled into the noisy crowd. Tonight Wyatt seemed to be on his best behaviour, although it was true he held her a little too tightly as they danced and she felt rather overwhelmed by his large, blond, physical presence. 'You're by far the prettiest woman here tonight,' he assured her, and although she knew this was not true, it was balm to her nagging feeling of hurt when she saw how amorously Terrill and Annabel were dancing. Annabel had her slender honey-coloured fingers clasped possessively at the back of Terrill's strong neck and her lips were very close to his. She saw them wander away into the moonlit garden, and it was a long time before they came back on to the rainbow-lit patio. She tried to tell herself that it was nothing to do with her whatever Terrill chose to do now. She had no claim on him, and it was her own fault that she was here. Supper was served as midnight struck. There were various salads on a long buffet table, and Fern helped herself to these rather than face the huge slices of buffalo meat that the large African was slicing with his panga from the revolving carcass. The other guests told her she was missing a treat, and certainly the fragrant odour of roasting beef smelled tempting, but on this warm evening Fern preferred the compote made of exotic fruits, papaya, litchis, guavas and golden Cape gooseberries, apricots and peaches. When supper was done, people seemed to prefer to wander around the moonlit garden rather than resume the dancing, and Fern stood again leaning over the balustrade breathing in the scent from a bed of lilies below. The air was warm velvet, the sky crazy with stars. There

was a pool with a fountain in the centre, and all at once it started to play. The sound of water falling came like cool crystal in the heat of the tropical night. 'It's a long time since we were at the same party, Fern,' came a voice beside her. 'A shade different from your London parties, I guess.' It was Terrill. She glanced around and saw that Annabel was involved in conversation with a crowd of her guests. 'Oh, yes, it's-certainly different,' she told him. 'But how long does it go on?' 'Probably until dawn. These parties are usually all- night affairs.' 'But I can't stay here that long!' she exclaimed. 'I must get back to Crispin.' 'Not to worry—he'll be all right,' shrugged Terrill. 'I'll get Wyatt to run me back.' 'I doubt whether he'll be willing. Wyatt doesn't like breaking up a good party, and you seem to have made quite an impression on him. However, if you're really serious. I can take you back later, but you must stay and watch the Ngoma dancing first. It's just about to begin.' Now Fern noticed that the space in front of the patio had somehow been cleared of people and a circle of spectators had been formed. In the distance she could hear a strange sound, and yet this sound seemed somehow familiar as if it struck some deep-down response in her being. She had heard it before in that other life: it was the sound of drums mingled with many voices. Gradually it came nearer, and she could distinguish the low bass sound of men's voices and the weird ululating of female singing.

Then in they came on to the lawn of brown dry grass, coming with short shuffling steps yet every now and again leaping high into the air with a rattling of anklets and swinging of fur kilts. It was an extraordinarily primitive sight, and Fern shivered a little as she watched this dancing from the old Africa. She felt Terrill's arm go around her bare shoulders as if to reassure her, and a deep thrill started somewhere right down inside her body. The throbbing drums, the painted faces of the African men, the bobbing naked breasts of the women, all had a sensuous charm enhanced by the exotic perfumes of the moonlit garden and the touch of the strong hand on the soft skin of her upper arm. It took her back in time, seeming to break down the barrier of the long years of separation. She turned and lifted her lips to his as if compelled by something outside her present self. His lips were only inches from hers. 'Oh, Fern,' he murmured, 'those lips are far too tempting to me. They always were, in spite of everything.' Her lips met his and her arms went swiftly around his neck. For a moment he seemed to hesitate, and then she felt his hands at her waist and he was kissing her, crushing her lips to his, forcing them apart. Above the swirling maelstrom of her senses she could hear the thunder of drums and the sensuous singing of the African women, and yet it all seemed to be taking place in her own body, an echo of the feelings that were whirling around in her mind. His hands were moving over her, touching her hungrily, and desire was shattering her caution, leaving her trembling in his arms. With an enormous effort of will, she tore herself away from him. By the light of the torches, his eyes looked dark and unfathomable, his smile insolent. 'So. You can still feel some passion for me?'

Trembling still from the devastating realisation that his embrace could still mean so much to her, she wanted to deny it vigorously. 'No, Terrill, don't think for a moment that I was serious about that kiss. It was just the romantic setting. Wyatt would have done just as well.' 'Would he indeed? Do you go around kissing all your new acquaintances like that?' 'Certainly, if I want to. Whoever I choose to kiss is my affair.' 'It used to be mine,' he reminded her. 'But that was a long time ago. I can promise you, Terrill, this kind of thing won't happen again.' 'Won't it? Are you sure, Fern?' By the flaming light of the torches, she could see his lips parted in what she could only describe as a satanic smile. He looked dark and wicked and disbelieving, taunting her determined declaration that that one kiss was the end of the matter. 'Whoever I choose to kiss is my affair too, Fern. Physically if not mentally I thought at one time we were the perfect pair. It seems we could be again. You can't tell me you didn't enjoy that kiss.' 'Maybe not, but now it's over, so I repeat, Terrill, it isn't going to happen again.' He smiled, and she knew with a failing heart that she had shown him by her willing surrender to that kiss that he still held a kind of attraction for her. She would have to be very careful in future.

The dancers had gone, vanishing into the darkness as mysteriously as they had arrived. Suddenly Terrill gave an exclamation of surprise and disbelief. 'Good grief, look who's here!' Up the drive a small figure on a bicycle was pedalling madly. 'What in the name of heaven are you doing here, Crispin?' asked Terrill. 'How did you get here? Are you on your own?' 'I'm quite all right,' said Crispin in confident tones. 'I had a lamp and I could see all the way.' Then his voice wavered and he sounded more like the small scared boy that he was. 'Terrill, there's trouble at the camp. We heard shots and Daniel went after the poachers and he hasn't come back. Florence, his wife, is scared, so I said I'd come for you.' Fern was shaken to the core, imagining Crispin making his way over that dark road with all its hazards, but Terrill seemed far more concerned in getting things moving. He went to fetch Wyatt and a couple of the other rangers. 'Oh, surely you don't all have to leave the party?' protested Annabel. 'If there are poachers they must be miles away by now, and when you get back, I'm sure you'll find Daniel has returned. Crispin and Florence probably panicked. Why spoil a good party?' 'Sorry, Annabel, I must go. Fern can stay if she likes. There's no need for her to come back.' 'Of course I'm coming back,' said Fern. 'Obviously someone must stay in camp with the boys.'

'Yes, perhaps on the whole it would have been better if you had stayed there, wouldn't it?' said Annabel. 'Poor little boy—imagine cycling alone all that way!' Is she trying to make me feel guilty for leaving him? thought Fern. She needn't bother, because I feel bad enough already. However, the 'poor little boy' was eating a large dish of ice-cream with great relish. 'Were you angry with me for coming?' he asked Terrill when they were on their way back. 'Not exactly,' Terrill told him. 'It was a bit risky for a child to cycle through lion country after midnight, but you came through all right.' 'I should think it was,' said Fern. 'Didn't you think of phoning?' 'I couldn't find the number. I was a bit scared, but I thought Terrill would want to know as soon as possible. I tried to be brave like you always say I should be, but it was a bit scary. Do you think I was brave, Terrill?' 'You'll do,' said Terrill, ruffling the boy's copper hair. I should have stayed at the camp, thought Fern. Suppose Crispin had met a lion or even met one of the poachers? Does Terrill blame me for leaving him? He seems enormously proud of him, and so he should be, but suppose it hadn't turned out so well? And what about the poachers? If Daniel has put himself in danger, Terrill and Wyatt will have to go after him. There's always something dangerous going on here. That's what I couldn't stand before. 'I thought you said the poaching had died down,' she said now. 'I hoped so, but it seems to be having a revival. It's not so much the odd impala that matters, but it's usually bigger game the poachers are

after. There's a tremendous illicit trade in ivory, and our elephants suffer because of it.' 'We heard elephants around the camp tonight,' said Crispin, 'and it was after that we heard the shots. Then we heard them squealing, you know the way they do, so Daniel thought he'd better go and see what was happening.' 'It was very foolish of him to go out on his own. He should have waited for some support. He knows that very well.' 'He thought he'd better go after them. He seemed to think they knew there was hardly anyone in the camp and he was afraid they might raid it.' 'That's possible. I guess we took too many risks all going to the party, and yet the poaching did seem to have died down lately.' 'I should never have left Crispin on his own,' said Fern. 'Nonsense! He was far safer with Daniel than he would have been with you. Daniel is able to use a gun and an assegai, and I still remember how scared you were of weapons. You would never let me bring a gun into the house, would you?' As soon as they reached the camp, the rangers changed into bush jackets and slacks and shouldered their rifles. 'Is there anything I can do?' asked Fern. 'Yes, you can make yourself useful setting off Very lights at intervals so that if Daniel has missed his way in the dark he can make his way back to the camp. Also it might scare off the poachers if they're anywhere near.'

And then they were gone. It seemed at first as if Crispin would be too excited to sleep, but although he fought against it, eventually his tiredness overcame him and he collapsed on his bed. Fern left Florence brewing tea in the kitchen and went to change into slacks and her safari jacket. The pretty white lawn dress with its dainty lace seemed incongruous in the circumstances. Somewhere at the back of her mind was the memory of that kiss, and yet it seemed like a dream. Only the worrying present was real. She gratefully accepted a cup of tea from Florence, who was sitting quietly and inscrutably in the kitchen, with Sam asleep beside her. She was a pretty young woman with almond-shaped eyes and heartshaped face. 'Are you worried about Daniel?' Fern asked her. 'No, madam, not too worried. Daniel is ndoda—a man. He would not be a ranger if he did not possess great courage.' 'I'll go and find the Very lights in case he needs to find his way back to camp in the dark.' 'Madam, there's no need. He has eyes like a cat, he can see in the dark.' Nevertheless Fern obeyed Terrill's instructions and at half-hour intervals let off the glowing balls of light into the night sky. Through the long night, the memory of that passionate embrace came back to her, however, much she tried to cast it aside. There are still some sparks in the fire I thought had long since died, she mused, but I must quench it. It mustn't be rekindled. Our relationship was like one of these glowing balls that light up the whole sky but just as quickly die, and there's nothing left.

It seemed a long time before the first rosy glow of dawn came over the tree-tops. During these hours she had heard all the sounds of the African bush, and it seemed to her as if they were multiplied tenfold. She heard the witches' cackle of hyenas, the chattering of monkeys and the roaring of the lions that silenced all other sounds, but, with the coming of dawn, the sounds changed and myriad birds heralded the coming of the sun, flashing carmine bee-eaters, blue rollers, emerald green malachite sunbirds, golden-winged bulbuls, yellow weaver birds. And still the men did not come back. What was happening? It seemed they had been gone for hours. Fern felt helpless in this situation. No wonder Terrill had vowed once that a ranger was better off without a wife to worry about him—but she was no longer a wife and still she was most desperately worried. At one stage during these hours of darkness she had heard the high, terrifying squeal of elephants. It had sounded very close, but now there was nothing to be heard but the song of birds, nothing to be seen but the gradual rosy beauty of the sky. Then, much to her relief, she heard the sound of the truck, and, looking out from the gate, she could see a cloud of red dust, gradually drawing nearer. Then they had arrived and the rangers were spilling out into the compound, their jackets covered with dust, their tanned faces dirty, their eyes bloodshot. In their midst was Daniel, looking none the worse for his long night in the bush, and with them also was a strange African who gazed around him with a fierce, wild expression. He was handcuffed and Daniel had obviously been detailed to keep an eye on him. 'Feed him first and then we'll interview him,' said Terrill. 'Oh, Fern, what are you doing here? You're up early.' 'You told me to stay up and fire the lights,' she reminded him.

'Ah well, perhaps it might have been necessary, but we found Daniel anyway. These wretches gave us the slip. They'd shot a large tusker, and what's more, they got away with the ivory, but we caught this fellow and hope to find out from him what the set-up is. Now how about some coffee, laced with something stronger, and a couple of sandwiches wouldn't come amiss?' It had all seemed so dangerous, and yet it was all in the day's work to them. Fern looked at Terrill. Even now, with his safari jacket open to the waist revealing a bronzed chest covered with sweat and dirt, his hair hanging stringlike beneath his camouflage hat, his eyes ringed with red dust, he was the most vital man she had ever known—but she must stop thinking in this way. The kiss had been a shared lapse and it didn't mean a thing to him. How much did it mean to her? But she wasn't going in to that now. All she needed was sleep.

CHAPTER SIX AT midday Zebediah, the young African with the distended earlobes, brought her coffee, wholemeal toast and two boiled eggs. She showered and dressed herself in sand-coloured cropped pants and a vest top of a sapphire blue that was the same shade as her eyes. Her neck, shoulders and arms were all now of the same uniform shade of gold. Only where the neckline revealed the hollow of her breast the shade of her skin remained creamy. For coolness she piled her hair in a knot on top of her head, and the pink lipstick was the only make-up she needed. In the tourists' shop of the reserve she had bought a barbaric-looking necklace of huge, unevenly shaped beads in shades of cream, brown, rust and blue, and this morning she decided to wear it. She felt she needed some kind of lift to her spirits. She expected Crispin was making up for his lost sleep this morning, but when she went in search of him, however, she found that all the rangers were gathered on the patio and that Crispin and Sam were sitting cross-legged listening avidly to the discussion. 'It's too bad he got away!' she heard Wyatt exclaim. 'I thought I had him safely under lock and key.' 'These fellows are pretty slippery. Daniel's cross as a coot that he escaped. He let him out to relieve himself and in a couple of seconds he'd vanished over the fence.' 'And so all our effort of last night is wasted.' 'Not quite. Daniel tells me he managed to get some information from the guy. He was a very minor cog in a big organisation, and it seems their main area is much farther away from where we were last night. It was unusual that they found themselves so near to the camp, but they'd been following that one elephant. The place where they usually operate is nearer to our old camp. Now that we've left there, it

appears they've moved into that area of the wilderness. God knows how many elephants they've accounted for there, as well as leopards and other animals.' 'Did they get anything last night, Terrill?' asked Crispin. 'Unfortunately, yes—they killed an elephant. We came across the carcass just as they'd removed the tusks. We were too late, however, and they managed to get away with them. All except the man we captured. But that too was short-lived. He was too slippy for us.' 'It may turn out a blessing in disguise,' Wyatt suggested. 'Daniel could track him down and would find out where they have their hideout.' Terrill shook his head. 'I don't intend to risk Daniel again. No, what I propose to do is to go and live for a while at the other camp. I'll take Daniel with me and we can maybe find out more about this gang.' Crispin jumped up and put his hands on Terrill's knee, looking pleadingly into his face. 'Take me too, Terrill! I want to come—I love the other camp. I want to see my old room again. Please take me! I promise I won't be any trouble to you.' Of course you can't go, Fern wanted to say, but before she could, Terrill said, 'If I take you, you'd have to promise me that you wouldn't leave the camp on any excuse whatsoever. If I think there's any danger, I could radio for someone to come and take you out of it, I guess.' 'I do promise—I really do. And what about Mum?'

'Oh, yes, your mother—I'd forgotten about her.' He really had forgotten me, Fern thought. He glanced up and she felt the blazing intensity of that gold-green gaze upon her. Now he's going to say I can book my air ticket out, she thought. He's left me out of his plans. He intends to have Crispin to himself. 'Daniel can bring his wife to do the cooking, and that means Sam can come too, so I guess we can fit your mother in somewhere. I won't be there much and I'll need someone to keep you two boys in order while Daniel and I are away.' 'Oh, Mum, do you hear that? It's going to be great! You'll like the other camp much better than this one,' Crispin exclaimed. 'I doubt it,' said Terrill, smiling crookedly. 'It's more on a par with what you were used to before, Fern. Hardly your scene after five years of civilisation.' 'I can put up with it if it will make Crispin happy,' said Fern. 'You hear that, Crispin? After that declaration of faith in you, you'll have to be on your best behaviour.' 'I will be, I promise you, Terrill.' 'And no wandering around in the bush any more. There are dangerous men around there.' 'What about Imp? Can we take him with us? We'll have to take him, Terrill. There's no one here who could look after him if Mum and Daniel and Sam and Florence are coming with us.' 'I suppose you'll have to bring the little beast,' Terrill agreed. 'It will be something to keep you occupied. Fern, you must know that you may have to spend long boring days in -camp. It won't be like it is

here where there are various distractions and you can get taken around in the reserve. There it's going to be tough living and no pleasant jaunts to see the animals.' 'If the time you got that injury in the poachers' snare was your idea of a pleasant jaunt, then I'm quite willing to stay in the camp,' said Fern. 'Very well. Let's waste no more time and get going. There's no need to pack very much—you certainly won't need pretty dresses. I myself will take my combat jacket, some camping equipment, a jungle knife, a cartridge bag and a couple of rifles. I believe in travelling light.' 'And Daniel can take his guitar,' Crispin suggested. 'Sure, if he wants to. Daniel can take his guitar.' Soon they were ready and on their way, taking the minimum of baggage except for a large box of supplies. There were basic provisions of tinned meat and vegetables, but Terrill had declared that he hoped to live off the land as far as possible. Fern thought that sounded rugged. He had warned her that she would find the living conditions rough, but she was determined not to show her dismay. However, it wasn't so much that she was afraid of the rough conditions. What she did dread was being more alone with Terrill than she had been at the main camp. But she could hardly let Crispin go on his own. The roads became even rougher as they left the tourist area. There were patches of savannah country, grasslands burned brown by the heat of he sun, but here there was more bush, thorn trees, mopane, and twisted trees with flaking paperlike blue and green bark. There were acacias with surprisingly yellow blossom in this dead landscape, agaves like candelabra and giant baobab trees.

'I remember these, they're such weird trees,' Fern remarked, when she saw the first one. 'The Africans say God planted them upside down, Terrill told her. 'Yes, they're like some gigantic bulbous root vegetable, aren't they?' Occasionally they came to a swampy area, and here there were palms and the tall shady umbrellas of fever trees with their startling livid green trunks. It was in this area that they saw buffalo with heavy horns above the shaggy heads. 'They look very peaceful when you see them like this,' Terrill told the boys, as the large beasts glanced up and then returned to their grazing, 'but they're one of the most dangerous animals on record.' 'My grandfather was killed by a buffalo, wasn't he, Terrill?' said Crispin. 'Yes, but we won't talk about that now.' In the burning heat of the day, Fern felt a shiver run down her spine. She had tried so hard to forget how that part of her life had started. Life here was one of constant peril—she had known that. How could any woman live with such a threat to the man she loved? And yet there were women who, unlike her, willingly accepted their husbands' way of life. Bringing up children in Africa had seemed to her a nightmare of seen and unseen terrors, and yet somehow the rangers' wives survived. But I wasn't the right type for it, thought Fern. I find it hard to face the kind of life I'm expected to live here. But nobody's asking you to do so any more, my girl, she told herself. Just think, in one month's time you'll be back in England, and all this beauty and terror will be a thing only remembered in dreams. And

Terrill? Our life together was an illusion, and he'll be part of the dream too, a dream best forgotten. Terrill brought the vehicle to a halt and the sudden silence was broken by a deafening sound. It reverberated in the sultry air in a most terrifying cacophony of sound. 'What is it?' asked Fern, but before Terrill could reply, she heard the noise again, louder now and coming towards them. From the bamboo thickets of the swampy ground on their left emerged a group of elephants. They took no notice of the truck but rushed past it with a stiff-legged run. It was like being in a forest of thick, grey, gnarled tree-trunks. Fern cowered down in her seat, but Terrill watched them alertly. 'There's water close by—that's where they're heading,' he told her. 'We'll follow them. There's nothing they love so much as water. See how excited they are!' Fern thought they seemed a little too excited for her liking. Their heaving grey bodies passed on either side of the vehicle, making it shudder with the thunder of their huge feet. Terrill started the engine and followed the herd at a less than discreet distance, and so at last they came to a stretch of water to which the elephants had been heading. They had reached their goal, and now they stood ranged along the water's edge, dipping their trunks and hurling it into their mouths with loud slurps. The youngsters jostled for position between their elders' legs, sometimes slipping down into the mud and squealing with fright, only to be retrieved and comforted by the females. Fern had now recovered from her first feeling of alarm. 'What a marvellous sight they are!' she breathed. 'Wait until you see them bathe,' Terrill told her.

Having slaked their thirst, they now proceeded to enjoy the water, plunging in like so many fat schoolgirls determined to have their swim. It was fun to see these huge creatures cavorting with great splashes, trunks raised in the air. They puffed and blew like hippos, tumbled over backwards, then recovered to dive once more into the cool mud. Calves romped around trying to distract their relatives, scrambling over muddy bodies, all caught up in the general air of excitement. 'They're so wonderful. How could anyone possibly want to harm them?' said Fern. 'It's too easy to understand. An African can earn more from selling ivory then he could possibly hope to earn from working more honestly in his lifetime. But it's hateful to see them killed. They have more dignity and family feeling than any other animal I know. They communicate through a wonderfully expressive body language. See how they caress each other with their trunks. Like people, as their affection for each other develops, their gestures become more intimate with each other.' Fern felt his hand around her shoulders as he pointed this out to her. She could feel the strong bronze fingers sliding over the bare skin of her upper arm. Was she like these creatures, she wondered, getting used again to the disturbing thrill of his touch? It was something that excited and yet scared her at the same time. She must not feel this renewed affinity with Terrill, she told herself. She was sure now that the touch on her shoulder meant no more to him than if he had been indicating something to Crispin. Definitely the woman who aroused him now was Annabel. On they went, and to Fern the countryside seemed to be becoming wilder and more strange. There were more animals than before, wildebeest, zebra, impala, ostriches and giraffes. There were many birds, and once overhead they saw a flight of flamingoes, their

feathers rosy pink in the sunlight. At last, as the golden bubble of the sun was sinking lower in the red of the western sky, they reached their destination, a group of rather tumbledown thatched huts that looked for all the world like some of the more decrepit African villages they had passed on the way to the reserve. 'Oh, we're here at last!' cried Crispin. 'What did I tell you, Mum, isn't it beautiful?' 'Beauty is in the eye of the beholder in this case,' said Terrill, smiling rather crookedly. 'I see the fence is down in some places, Daniel. We'll have to take care of that soon.' Thank goodness this was not the same camp where they had stayed during the brief years of their marriage, but it was very similar. The huts had once been whitewashed, but now the paint was worn and peeling, yet the surroundings of this little group of dwellings in the bush were most beautiful. A huge wild fig tree shaded the sandy clearing, its roots stretching out yards above the ground. It seemed to be the home for hundreds of wild birds and, swinging on the lower branches, there were intricately woven nests of bright yellow weavers, some of which were hanging upside down under the results of their work, frantically flapping their wings. Once out of the car, Crispin ran eagerly towards the largest hut in the centre of the clearing. 'This is our house, Mum. Come and see!' As Fern came into the stable door, a large lizard with a bright blue head scuttled past her and dived into the bushes beside the step. Well, thank goodness it wasn't a snake, she thought. Inside there was one large main living room with rooms leading off on each side. Large evil-looking spiders had taken up residence in the thatch, and when

she went into the bedroom, geckos squeaked at her from the walls, then darted up into the roof. 'Outside sanitation, I'm afraid, Fern,' said Terrill, who had followed her in. 'The little house is some way from here, and if you go out at night, you must be sure to take your torch—you never know what might be lurking about. Daniel will get a fire going outside. It's the only way to heat the water. We have an arrangement with a tank and we light wood underneath it. Rather ingenious, don't you think? The shower too is quite inventive. It's housed in that little building with no roof, but I'm afraid it has to be cold. However, there's a spring nearby and we can take a dip in there occasionally in the heat of the day when the animals aren't around.' Fern was conscious of that alert, searching green gaze upon her now. 'It must look just as bad to you, or worse, than our former home. Now you know the worst, are you sorry you came, Fern?' 'Not at all,' she said calmly. She thought she would have died rather than let him know how daunting she found the prospect of having to stay here, perhaps alone, except for Florence and the children, in this wild place. 'I warned you it's not exactly the Ritz,' he reminded her. 'I should think that fig tree is many a bird's idea of the Ritz anyway,' she answered him. 'You're right there. The oldest inhabitant seems to be an eagle owl. You'll probably see him later when he goes on his nightly foraging. So you're willing to put up with this for a while?' 'Of course.'

'Good girl! Crispin was so keen to come, but I knew you'd never consent to my bringing him here alone. It wouldn't have been practical anyway. Too much depends on my having the freedom to act when the time comes. I must find these poachers,' he added. 'God knows how many elephants and other beasts they've accounted for already. Crispin mustn't be allowed to try any harebrained expeditions here. As you can gather, it's more primitive than the other camp and much less inhabited, except for dangerous men and beasts.' 'I realise that, Terrill,' said Fern. 'I haven't forgotten everything about the life here.' They found grass brooms in the cupboard, and she and Florence set to to clean up the place while Daniel and Terrill tried to repair the boma fence that surrounded the clearing. It was far too full of weak places to keep the animals out and it would take more than one evening's work to fix it. After a while they gave up and started to collect wood for a fire. There was a wood-burning stove in the kitchen and they had brought steaks of warthog to cook for their supper, but these they decided should be cooked outside on the coals of an open fire. The boys were wild with delight at their new outdoor life and ran around the clearing collecting wood, followed by the prancing fawn. 'Unfortunately I think we'll have to keep him indoors in one of the spare rooms until we can fix a proper home for him,' said Terrill. 'I guess I should never have let Crispin keep him. He's getting too fond of him, and it will be hard to return him to the wilds.' 'You could hardly have done otherwise,' said Fern. 'Oh, I can be ruthless enough on occasions. It doesn't do to be sentimental about animals. I was so glad to see Crispin and Sam unharmed that day, they got me on an unusually soft spot.'

'Yes, I guess it was unusual,' she agreed. She was aware of the green-gold eyes again, regarding her closely with that impenetrable, enigmatic stare. 'So. You don't credit me with any softness now?' 'No, I don't. Even long ago, sometimes you seemed to me to be the hardest man I'd ever met.' Terrill smiled and his whole expression changed. Now his voice had that charming timbre she had known so well. 'But you hadn't had much experience of men at that time, had you, Fern?' His eyes were concentrated on her and her heart seemed to be swinging like a pendulum. Against her will she remembered how innocent she had been when they married, but how she had delighted in the passion he could arouse in her. He had taught her what exquisite pleasure there could be from bodily love. His kisses had set her on fire, consuming her. Forget it, she told herself. We're different people now, and a whole world and way of life separates us. They ate their grilled supper sitting on the tumbledown wooden verandah of the hut. Above them the old fig tree was full of the twittering of birds, and pretty black and white colobus monkeys swung in the branches uttering their loud burring calls. After supper the boys were obviously hardly able to keep their eyes open, and though they felt the need to protest loudly beforehand, as soon as they had gone inside the huts, there was no more noise from them. The Africans had a hut to themselves across the clearing and Florence soon followed Sam, but Daniel remained behind collecting more wood to keep the fire going during the night.

'Leave it now, Daniel,' said Terrill. 'I'll wake you later if I need you. It doesn't sound as if there's any big game around just now. We should be safe enough in the huts tonight.' Suddenly they were alone. On the verandah there was an ancient settee, ragged and torn yet still comfortable, and Fern had eaten supper sitting on this. Now Terrill left the fire and came to sit beside her. A huge moon was rising over the wild fig tree, filling the clearing with silvery light. The heat of the day had gone and, in its place, was a gentle warmth that was filled with the strange perfumes of hidden blossoms. Large pale moths hovered with outstretched probosces over the flowering shrubs and in the fig tree there was the bell-like sound of fruit bats. From Daniel's hut came the notes of his guitar, cascading in soft streams of sensuous sound. Terrill had flung himself down beside her, his arm along the back of the couch, and Fern was deeply conscious of the vibrant physical presence of the man. The golden moon, the fragrance in the air, the plangent throb of the guitar, all added to this feeling that she was drowning in some dark sea of an emotion that she had thought lost to her for ever. With something like shame, she realised that she longed for the touch of those brown, strong hands, longed for the crushing passion of those demanding, bruising lips. Oh, please don't let me feel like this, she implored the huge golden stars that were hanging like lamps in the deep blue velvet of the sky. She felt his hand slide under her chin, curve around the nape of her neck and turn her face towards him. With a muffled exclamation he took her in his embrace. 'Your eyes look so dark and startled in the moonlight,' he muttered. 'And yet they're shining at me like twin stars.' His mouth came down on hers, gentle at first as the wings of those moths that were floating around the single small lamp, and then, as he felt her lips tremble under his, his own became more searching, more demanding. The kiss that had begun so softly became hard,

consuming her with its passion. Fern shuddered as she felt his hands on her breasts, willing them to a response of their own. I mustn't feel like this, said a small voice somewhere inside her head. He's only making love to me because we're alone, miles from anywhere, and Annabel isn't available. He lost any feeling for me a long time ago and he's only making the most of his opportunities here. She tore away from his arms and went to stand leaning on the balustrade of the verandah, but he followed her and, as he caught her up pressed against him, she felt the muscular hardness of his body. 'Why run away, Fern?' he asked. 'Isn't this what we both want?' As his hands sought the curves of her body, she knew the weakness of sensual desire that was being aroused from somewhere deep inside herself. She felt the roughness of his chin brushing against her cheek, the trembling sensation of his lips upon her neck, then, turning towards him, with an effort, she thrust him away from her. 'Oh, no, Terrill, you're mistaken. I didn't come back so that this could happen. Passion between you and me was over when you decided I should stop being your wife.' 'Can you deny that your kisses meet me halfway?' 'I admit it, but, Terrill, just put it down to this romantic setting. I'd forgotten how glamorous the sounds and scents of the African night could be. It seems to demand some kind of lovemaking.' 'Would Wyatt have done just as well, then?' he asked softly. 'Maybe. Who knows? I think that kiss was merely caused by our nearness and the fact that we're alone in a romantic setting, and

maybe some "memory of the past. But it won't do, Terrill. We lead our separate lives now. There can be no coming together again.' 'Have I said anything about coming together again? Certainly not. But, Fern, it could be beautiful just for the time we're here. You must remember how it was before. It could be so again for a little while.' Fern felt angry pulses throbbing inside her head. 'You're still the same certainly as you were before, the same selfopinionated person! What makes you think I'd entertain the idea of letting you make love to me for a few days? For your information, Terrill, even your kisses are less than welcome to me!' In the moonlight, she could see the dark satanic curve of his lips and the glitter of white teeth. 'You could have fooled me, Fern, but let it rest.' From somewhere far away came the deep-throated roar of a lion just about to set out on its night's hunting. Terrill glanced up to where the huge moon sailed across the cloudless sky. 'It's a hunter's moon tonight. The Swahili people say that roar means, "Whose land is this? Mine, mine, mine."' It isn't just the lion that says that, thought Fern. With the arrogant tilt of his head, it seemed to her that Terrill could be saying it too. 'Well, Fern, let's go to our separate beds if that's what you want. The lions will get what they desire, even if I don't. Daniel and I must make an early start tomorrow. Don't bother to get up. Doubtless Florence will prepare some food for us. And I don't think you need worry about the boys too much,' he added. 'I hope that Crispin has learned his lesson, and I feel I can trust him now that he's promised

not to move out of the camp. You should be safe enough here, but I'll leave you a gun.' 'Don't bother. I could never bring myself to use one,' Fern assured him. 'I'll leave one in any case, but banging on a tin will get as good a result as a gun, specially when it comes to elephants.' 'You really expect elephants could come here?' 'Most certainly, but, if they do, don't take any notice. Just stay inside and they'll go away.' 'Rather difficult not to take any notice of an elephant!' said Fern drily. 'Don't worry, it probably won't happen. I hope we won't be away for too long a time. According to our informer, the cache for ivory and skins was not too far away from here.' 'We'll be all right,' she told him with more conviction than she was really feeling. Terrill put out his hand and touched her shoulder. Where his fingers lay, she felt for a moment as if a flame had burned her. 'Take care, Fern. I wouldn't want anything to happen to Crispin.' 'And what about me?' she asked. 'You? Oh, Fern, you've shown me clearly tonight that you can look after yourself well enough.' Later, as she lay in the narrow iron bed with its hard coir mattress, she mused that when she had first arrived in Africa, after her years in the city, she had thought the other camp quite wild and dangerous,

but now the memory of it seemed a haven of peace compared with the idea of being alone here with the possibility of elephants or lions dropping in. Why, she thought, had Terrill had more physical appeal for her than any other man she had ever met? She knew he was arrogant, opinionated, and yet whenever he touched her, she longed for his embrace. Sleep was long in coming to her, and when at last tiredness conquered the hardness of the mattress, she was troubled by dreams, dreams in which wild beasts crouched behind every bush as she made her way through the wilderness, and Terrill stood there in the far distance, too far away to help her, near enough to mock her.

CHAPTER SEVEN IN spite of the fact that Terrill had said she should not bother to get up, when Fern heard him moving about quietly in the centre room, she slipped on a shirt and a pair of jeans and joined him there. Somehow she felt she needed reassurance about being left responsible for the others in the camp for the whole of one day while he and Daniel went into possible danger. Florence had already made coffee and stiff porridge made from maize meal and was packing dried meat and hard biscuits into the haversacks, together with flasks of water. 'Not much of a picnic, is it?' said Terrill as he saw Fern's eyes on this. 'But I don't expect we'll need to eat until we get back here. This is just in case we need some rations. By the way, I've decided to carry walkie-talkie apparatus. You have the corresponding equipment here. If anything happens that you need help, you can get in touch with me. I won't use it unless it's absolutely necessary. It's quite simple to use.' She felt a little relieved now that she need not be entirely isolated, but thought the situation would have to be desperate before she called him. When she saw him pack his gun into the leather belt, her heart gave a sickening jolt and she realised again that, although he took it all so calmly, he was going into danger. 'Wouldn't it be better if you had some other rangers with you?' she asked. He shook his head. 'No, this gang would find out too quickly that we were on to them if we had a crowd of men here. Daniel and I can manage this quite adequately. The element of surprise is what we need. No need to be

nervous, it's quite normal to have to go after poachers. These seem to be a more highly organised gang, however.' She walked with him to the perimeter of the camp, feeling now that she did not want to let him go, but how could she stop him? It was for this reason that they had come here to this wild place. Daniel was waiting a few yards ahead when Terrill stopped, saying, 'Go back now, Fern, you've come far enough. Stop worrying! Anyone can see you're scared stiff. If I'd known you were going to be so frightened of being left here, I should have left you in the other camp.' 'I'm not frightened,' she denied indignantly. 'At least not for myself.' He turned to face her and his lips quivered in a smile. 'Surely not for me? Oh, Fern, there's no need for that. You know this is a routine operation, something a ranger risks facing all the time. Surely you remember I'm used to going into a certain amount of danger?' 'But I'm not!' cried Fern. 'I never could stand the life of being married to a ranger.' His expression was dark. 'I know that, to my cost, but after all, Fern, you're no longer married to me, so there's no need for you to worry, is there? You showed me last night quite plainly, didn't you, that now you're pretty indifferent to my charms?' He was smiling at her now, that slow sardonic smile that she had learned to hate. 'There's no need to bring that up now,' she complained, 'just as you're going.'

'Then let's kiss and be friends.' She found herself caught up in his hard embrace and her body yielded to him, even though her mind cried out to her that this made it worse. She felt his kiss, savage and demanding, on her lips, and then he was gone, following Daniel down the track, turning to wave gaily as she stood with her hand to her mouth that was bruised from his kisses. She made her way slowly back to the camp and sat for a long time on the ancient sofa drinking coffee and wondering how she was going to get through the long anxious day. But later she found there was plenty to occupy herself and Florence. She helped Florence clean the house and then the African woman expertly got the wood stove working and proceeded to bake bread. Fern made cakes, which were much appreciated by the boys. Crispin and Sam were busy making a tree house, much to the dismay of the birds and monkeys, who resented this invasion of their domain with much complaining. At least it was keeping them occupied, thought Fern. They had tethered Imp to a stake in case he should decide to wander, and he seemed content to lie in the shade of a tree with plenty of grass and twigs to nibble. Fern thought that if only it wasn't for the danger of the poachers, she could even learn to enjoy this way of life. Fortunately the big game seemed to be keeping away, perhaps scared off by the human occupation, but some distance away in a glade beyond the trees, she could see zebras scarcely visible with their excellent camouflage of striped coats. Now and again she could hear their odd whistling calls to each other and in the giant fig tree there was the constant song of birds, flying in and out of the leaves with brilliant flashes of colour, the iridescent emerald of the malachite sunbirds, the cobalt blue of the starlings. She noticed now that the boys had lit a small fire and were making a great deal of noise over whatever they were doing. They seemed to

be cooking something, and she asked Florence, 'Did you give the boys anything to cook over the coals?' 'No, ma'am.' 'Then what is it they're cooking?' 'I don't know, ma'am.' But Fern felt sure she did. She went over to the boys. 'Whatever are you doing, Crispin?' she demanded. Crispin looked up, his face smeared with ash. In his hand he had something that looked brown and crisp. 'We're roasting locusts,' he announced calmly. 'Do have one, Mum. They taste just like potato crisps, only nicer.' Fern felt her stomach give an uneasy quiver. 'How revolting!' she shuddered. 'It's not really,' Crispin assured her. 'Terrill wouldn't mind. He's taught me all kinds of ways of living off the country—that's what he calls it. He once let me fry some flying ants. They tasted jolly good too. If we were lost in the bush any time, we'd know what to do, wouldn't we, Sam?' Sam nodded appreciatively, his mouth full of crisp barbecued locusts. 'Well, I only hope it doesn't make you ill,' Fern told them feebly. 'It won't,' said Crispin confidently. 'Why should you not eat locusts and other things if you can eat things like shrimps and oysters?'

Why indeed? thought Fern. Florence produced a tasty stew for lunch, and Fern did not venture to ask what it contained. Then after lunch she lay on the old sofa while the boys drowsed in a hammock they had slung between two thorn trees. This was the hottest time, when waves of heat quivered across the clearing and even the sound of birds was hushed. Later Fern thought she might take a shower or even venture down to the spring for a bathe, but now it was time for dreaming. Where was Terrill now? Was he too slumbering under some tree until the sun dipped lower, or was he still persistently following the track of the poachers hoping to catch them unawares? Fern tried to banish him from her mind, but it was difficult. When she closed her eyes, it seemed as if she could feel his mouth on her own and sense the long lithe strength of his body here beside her. Why, oh, why had he always had this intense physical attraction for her, when she was quite sure his lovemaking of last night had only been opportunist, making the most of the moment, and that when they had left here he would go back to Annabel without a backward glance? She was roused from these thoughts by the bleep of the transistor she had set beside her. Terrill had said he would call only if something desperate had happened, and now here it was. Fearfully she raised it to her, turning the switch, and hearing his voice distorted and strange. 'Fern, we've tracked them down and found the cache. Unfortunately we've only got one man, but plenty of information. We need the truck to carry the skins and ivory, so I want you to drive to meet us.' Here followed his instructions. 'It won't be difficult to find the way— there's only one track. There's no need to be scared. The other poachers are miles away by now. You won't meet anyone but animals, and it isn't time for even them to be wandering around. You understand what to do? Good girl! Be seeing you.'

Fern put down the apparatus. She found that she was trembling. Don't be scared, Terrill had said, but how could she help it? She had never driven alone in the wilderness. Even when he had been injured, Terrill had been there to advise her and back her up. He has more confidence in me than I have in myself, she thought, and went to tell Florence she was leaving. 'You'd better have some kind of meal ready for when they arrive back,' she said. Then she went to the boys and got them to promise faithfully that they would not try any new adventures while she was away. It seemed risky leaving them, but Terrill needed her—or rather, he needed the truck. She went to inspect the vehicle and added a can of fuel, taking another one with her in case she ran short. Then she turned the truck around and set out upon the trail as Terrill had instructed her. She drove slowly and carefully, trying to avoid the numerous bumps in the road, but she could not do anything about the corrugations that must have been made when there was more traffic here before the other camp had been built. She clung to the wheel as she was bounced around in the cab. The heat was terrific, as she had to keep the windows closed, otherwise the following dust would have penetrated into the vehicle. As it was, the truck was far from dustproof; in fact it seemed to draw in the red sandy substance like an efficient vacuum cleaner. Sometimes she saw game on the road, antelopes and zebra and wildebeest jumping around in their awkward way when they caught sight of the truck, and once a most beautiful bushbuck leaped down from a bank, narrowly missing a collision. She saw its wide eyes and caught a glimpse of the circular marking on its rump as it dashed away, but she had no time to appreciate these sights, as all her mind was concentrated on getting the truck to the meeting place that Terrill had arranged.

She slowed down, however, when she caught sight of a young lioness. It was on one side of the track and it must have been stalking a buck on the other side, for, when it was interrupted by the noise of the engine, it walked across the road, its gold-green eyes glaring in Fern's direction. If looks could kill, thought Fern, I'd be dead by now! Sorry, madam, that I spoiled your hunting. Oh, please God, don't let me meet any elephants! But almost immediately she had thought of them, they were there, a group of about eight, by the side of the road just about to cross in front of her. The truck ground to a halt and she watched and waited, not daring to move. One huge female led the way, followed by her companions with small offspring jostling between their elder's legs. The dust from their footsteps swirled around them and their trunks were raised up and huge ears laid back as if they were testing the wind for the smell of something alien to their world. Can they smell the fuel, thought Fern, and if they can, what will they do? She breathed a sigh of relief as they all seemed to be on their way, then one straggler, a young half-grown bull, seemed to notice the truck for the first time. He turned to face it, great ears flared, and let out a bellowing scream. The others were off the road by this time and took no notice, but evidently the young bull had decided to investigate this strange thing by coming closer. Fern felt trickles of cold sweat coursing down her body. She could not decide whether to sound the klaxon and possibly annoy the whole herd or whether she should face the anger of the young bull on his own. He had halted his approach long enough to stand with his forefeet on an anthill at the side of the road as if he knew he would look more terrifying this way. His threatening pose was increased by the huge outstretched ears. But then when nothing happened and the truck showed no sign of movement, the young bull seemed to become uncertain. He shook his head furiously and stretched out a long trunk, at the same time emitting a deep grumbling kind of snort. Then

suddenly he turned around with his small tail arched up as he clumsily ran to join the rest of the herd. They were away now, melting into the trees like grey ghosts as if they had never been there to make her so scared. Slowly she started the engine and went on her way. She drove on through more miles of sandy ground with brown grass and flat thorn trees and, here and there, mounds of anthills and piles of rugged rocks. And then she saw him, a small figure becoming larger, standing by the side of the track, and it seemed to Fern that she had never seen anyone more welcome. She stumbled out of the truck and almost fell into his outstretched arms, and then she was tasting the salt on his lips, smelling the dusty fragrance of his hair. Terrill thrust her away from him and looked at her, the intense gold-green stare, that only he could give. She could feel the strength of his arms about her shoulders and, for a weak moment, she wanted to lean against him and gather something from that vital power that he seemed to possess in such abundance. 'Good effort. So you made it,' was all he said. 'I made it,' she agreed, 'but only just.' 'What was the problem?' 'A lion and a few elephants. Nothing that you would notice,' she told him, trying to sound casual. 'I was beginning to worry about you—I thought you might have driven the truck into a donga. Well, here you are now, and that's all that matters.' Is that so? thought Fern. It never matters to you whether I've been terrified half out of my wits, does it? You're only worried about damage to the truck!

'I'll take over the driving,' said Terrill. 'There's an old rhino track that we should be able to negotiate. We'll have to crash through the bush, but no matter, we should make it to the cache. Daniel's guarding the one man we managed to catch—he had a limp and wasn't as nippy as the other guys. But we've found out their outlet for their haul. Now we need to know who the men are at the head of this racket. It seems there's an Arab who collects the stuff in his dhow and takes it to a central point for distribution. But more of that later.' They left the track, which Fern had thought could not possibly be much rougher, but now they were in the bush, riding along a trail that was hardly wide enough for the vehicle. They crashed into bushes and tore off branches as they plunged and dipped over the rugged ground. They made so much noise that the animals, if they were any, must have fled in terror. At last they arrived at a clearing where there were some ramshackle shelters that had evidently been the poachers' sleeping quarters. 'Just take a look at this,' said Terrill. Fern gave a gasp of dismay. 'But this is terrible!' she cried. All around, strung on the bushes, laid on the ground, were the hides of animals, zebra, giraffe by the dozen and, less numerous, the skins of leopards and lions, and in addition to this there were tusks of elephants, huge cream-coloured arches that had been roughly sawn from the carcasses of the huge beasts. 'Now you can see why I'm so eager to stop all this. Now maybe you can understand why I have a low opinion of tourists. It's for them these men carry on this trade, so that some woman can show off a leopardskin coat or some man can boast about having a lion skin on his hearth.'

'But people are more conservation-conscious these days,' Fern reminded him. 'Not all of them, unfortunately. Well, Daniel, how's the prisoner? He looks a poor specimen to be guarding all this wealth.' The prisoner was a tall thin African. He did indeed look very shifty. Daniel had him in a tight hold, but he didn't seem in any fit state to resist his arrest. He seemed cowed by the fact that the hoard had been discovered, and he helped to load the skins and ivory into the truck without any protest. This done, they started the journey back. 'What are you going to do with all this?' asked Fern. 'I have a plan. We'll discuss it later.' As they drove back to the camp, the heat of the day had lessened and the sun was going down swiftly in a red ball from which streamers of fire spread over the heavens. In this splendid light, the tan coats of the impala herds gleamed a richer gold and the ruff of a distant lion seemed made of flame. For once Fern felt at peace with this wild country. It had not vanquished her When she was alone in the hot afternoon. She had managed to get through to Terrill, even if he had taken it for granted that she should drive in Africa just as fearlessly as she would have done on an English road. As if reading her thoughts, Terrill suddenly said, 'You did well today, Fern. You've certainly done some growing up. As I remember you before, you would have been scared to do a trip like today's on your own. You seemed to grow to hate the life here.' 'You never gave me much chance to get used to it,' Fern told him. 'In those days you were always off somewhere escorting tourists on your safaris.'

'Well, that's all changed now. After you left I stopped doing that kind of work. I realised I was more interested in making contact with the animals themselves than showing them off to visitors. I leave that to Wyatt and others now.' By the time they arrived at the camp, Florence had fed the boys and they were sound asleep after their long, energetic day. 'I'll just radio the other camp and tell them the results of our raid. Daniel can see to the prisoner—I don't think he'll let him get away this time. I'll be some time. Perhaps you'd like to shower before we eat.' Back in her room, the thought of the tepid shower in the ramshackle little shed with its open top was less than inviting. Terrill had said he would be occupied with the radio transmitter for some time. Fern remembered how attractive the pool at the spring had looked when she had seen it earlier in the day. It would be heavenly to have a bathe there. Terrill had assured her that it was quite safe to bathe there in the afternoon, but how about night-time? The sun had only just set, but already an enormous pink moon was rising over the tops of the trees. Besides, Terrill had told her that at night the pool was lit up with a kind of searchlight. It came on automatically when the generator was working, a relic of when this camp was used more regularly for visitors. She was so hot and tired after all the activities of the day and she thought longingly of cool, cool water bubbling up into the perfectly shaped little pool with its tropical creepers trailing from the banks into the water. I'll just take a quick dip into it, she decided. It will be much more refreshing than that awful old shower. She could not be bothered to find her swimsuit, which was still packed away, but that hardly mattered; Terrill would be occupied for quite a while and no one else was around to see her. She had a short cotton gown, and

slipping into this, she took a towel and set out on the short path to the pool. The strong searchlight lit up the pool almost as clear as day and she could see that the place was deserted. It was just as she had imagined—absolutely heavenly, she thought, as, discarding her gown, she slipped easily into the Cool waters. All around her was some fragrance, dizzyingly exotic, from the creamy flowers of a creeper that was hanging from a tree dipping towards the surface of the pool. She had intended only to go in and, having cooled off, to come out again quite quickly, but it was so lovely that she could not bear to leave. She swam easily up and down the little pool, then, lying on her back, looked up through the feathery leaves and branches to the first faint stars beside the rising moon. Somewhere near at hand a frog croaked loudly, and, on a higher note, she could hear the piercing sound of a tree-frog and the deep hoot of an owl preparing for its night's hunting. There was a small waterfall at one end of the pool, gurgling over natural steps of rock, and here she sat, letting the water stream over her hair and the curves of her body. While she sat quietly, an impala doe with its fawn beside it came delicately down to the water's edge and, with many a startled glance around, lapped its fill. Fern sat motionless, afraid to startle the beautiful creature. But I must go. I've really stayed too long, she thought. Suddenly the peace was shattered. From the other side of the pool came a disjointed violent sound, an audible intake of breath, followed by deep, harsh, rasping grunts. Fern felt her hair and skin prickle with fright, and the night seemed charged with danger, heightened by the deep barks of alarm from the monkeys roosting in the fig tree. A leopard, its rosettes silver and black in the moonlight, rushed towards the doe, trying to seize the fawn, but suddenly it was distracted by some missile which landed near to the beast from the

other side of the pool and the doe was away, the fawn bleating agitatedly beside it, while the leopard was left lashing its tail angrily. 'Don't move, Fern. I'm coming!' She heard a splash as Terrill's body hit the water and the leopard vanished into the shadows. And then he was holding her, clasping her trembling body against the steel-like hardness of his own. 'Foolish girl!' he breathed, his mouth against the curve of her cheek. 'Why did you come alone here at this hour? You should have known that the more dangerous game come to drink here before they go hunting.' 'You're always assuring me that they're not dangerous,' she protested. 'I didn't mean to stay so long, but it was so delicious.' 'A word that describes our present situation exactly,' drawled Terrill. Her fright over the leopard had disappeared and she was only aware that he was holding her in an intimate embrace in the soft lapping water of the pool. She was shaken with a piercing sense of joy as his caressing fingers sought out the silken curves of her body that seemed to fit so perfectly against the bronzed muscles of his own. 'Lovely Fern—your lips taste of moonlight,' he whispered. For a moment she clung shuddering to him and then, with a tremendous effort of will, she discarded the savage insistence of his hands and the suffocating excitement of his kisses and, pushing away, swam to the side of the pool and put on her wrap without stopping to towel herself dry. 'Goodbye, Terrill. Enjoy your swim!' she called, and ran along the path that led to the huts.

In spite of his strictures about clothes, she had brought one cotton skirt, a rather feminine affair in a pattern of rose and turquoise. With this she wore a strapless top, and when her hair was almost dry, she arranged it twisted on top of her head with curling tendrils on her forehead. It was a matter of pride somehow that she should appear well groomed, calm and collected. Florence had left a meal already prepared for them and had long since retired to her room, so they sat alone at the rough table where Florence had put candles, in an effort perhaps to introduce some glamour into this wild place. Terrill had changed from his usual safari jacket into a white shirt, and, by candlelight, his face looked very bronzed, his eyes intensely dark beneath the arching brows, and the sweep of his lashes that seemed too long for such a male person as he. Rogue male—the words seemed to come from nowhere into her head. Yes, that was what they called an animal, be it elephant or buffalo, which did not conform to the usual pattern of the herd. And Terrill seemed to fit into no pattern. He liked women for what they could give. He was a man of passion, and in her opinion their marriage had not been enough for him. He was a dangerous man for any woman to know unless she was prepared to go along with his ideas. It had been heaven for a while when they were married, and then his life in the wilderness had come between them. It was only because they were alone here that he had somehow once more ensnared her senses in this desperate enchantment. Because his mission happened to be dangerous, she, she supposed, offered some light relief. He did not want to make love to her from any memory of their past; if they had been back at the other camp, it would have been Annabel. He was pouring some wine, light and sparkling, into her glass. 'No wine, thank you.'

'Nonsense, you need a stimulant after having that fright with the leopard. It will do you good.' But after one token sip, she left it on one side, determined that her senses, already too much aroused by him, should not betray her further. Their encounter in the pool she firmly tried to banish from her mind, and she hoped Terrill would do so too. 'Do you think the leopard will come back here?' she asked. 'It might be lingering around the pool, but I shouldn't worry. You aren't proposing to take a midnight swim, are you?' She tried to meet the quizzical glance of those gold- green eyes and felt herself flushing, and now there seemed—but could it be so?— something gentler about that hard stare. 'How odd, Fern, that you can still produce a blush! It was one of your charms for me when young. But surely now there's no need to be confused. You're still very beautiful. I've never seen better in an art gallery, and that's true.' That's how much I mean to him, Fern thought—I'm like something in a picture, not anything living and human and subject to absurd memories and emotions. 'You were going to tell me what you're going to do with all those skins and tusks,' she reminded him, wanting to change the subject and forget the episode at the pool. 'Ah, yes—well, we can't bring the animals back to life, but I hope to make some use of the sacrifice of their lives. The African we caught has told me where they were to meet this Arab who deals in the stuff. I expect he thinks there's safety in numbers, as a large number of yachts and Arab dhows visit the place on the coast where they meet,

quite a well-known tourist resort. A river flows into the sea there and apparently the idea is that the dhow will slip into a quiet landing upriver and load the booty, possibly under cover of night. 'They've already had a signal as to when he expects to arrive, not the exact time but within a few days. They were to take the haul there and help load it. But now the poachers are scattered and we have the goods. However, I still hope to lay my hands on this Arab, who's one of the higher up men of this cunning ring.' 'But how will you do that?' 'Ah—that, my dear Fern, is where I hope you come in.' 'Me?' Fern had a sinking feeling. There was nothing she felt that Terrill would not demand of her, not even questioning his right to ask it, but surely he could not expect her to help him catch this criminal? What use could she be? She couldn't even handle a gun! 'I don't know what you can be expecting me to do. I can't think what earthly use I could be in this situation.' 'There you're wrong,' he said. 'You can be a great deal of use to me. What I'm proposing is to pretend to be a dealer myself. This way I hope to trap the man. But we may have to wait some time for him and I don't want to draw attention to myself by being conspicuously alone at the hotel. I have reason to believe that some of the servants at the hotel are in on this racket, and it's probable that they've heard of me. But if we go as ordinary tourists under another name than mine, we shouldn't arouse suspicion, especially if they think we're a couple on our honeymoon.' Fern gazed at him in total disbelief.

'On honeymoon? You and me?' 'What's so surprising about that?' 'It's a bit late in the day, to say the least,' she protested. 'It isn't such a crazy idea, Fern. If we could pretend to be a newly married couple, only interested in each other, it would divert attention away from my real aim.' By the light of the flickering candles, Terrill's expression looked to Fern wicked, almost satanic, with those eyebrows drawn together in a quizzical frown, and yet the lips were subtly smiling. 'It shouldn't be too difficult. Do this for me, Fern. After all, we have had some experience together, and it wasn't altogether bad, was it?' Now the frown had gone and his whole face was full of charm, his eyes willing her to consent. 'Oh, no, you don't!' she said, rising to her feet. 'I'm not going to renew our marriage, not to catch a million poachers!' 'It needn't be for real,' he shrugged. 'No? And what guarantee have I got of that?' 'You don't trust me,' he accused her. 'No, I don't,' she told him bluntly. 'Or could it be that you don't trust yourself?' 'Certainly not! I'm always totally in control of myself, whatever the situation.'

'You could have fooled me,' drawled Terrill with a wicked grin. 'Surely the message has sunk in to you by now, Terrill, that I'm not interested in your lovemaking?' 'Well, as a matter of fact, Fern it hasn't—but when I speak about pretending to be on honeymoon, don't get me wrong. It's to be an act, not the real thing. Unless of course I can persuade you to change your mind?' 'You haven't a hope of that, Terrill,' she assured him. 'Too bad,' he said. 'I remember a time when your answer would have been different. Surely you remember how good it was?' I try not to, she thought. 'This hotel has chalets on the beach especially for lovers so that they can be alone. There are two double beds in the rooms just in case they quarrel, I presume, so your virtue will be safe, always supposing you want it to be.' 'And what about Crispin?' Fern queried. 'We're going to look pretty silly pretending to be a honeymoon couple with such a mature child.' 'I've spoken on the radio to one of the rangers at the camp, and his wife will have Crispin while we're away. I hope it won't be for long.' 'You've thought of everything,' said Fern. But not, she thought bitterly, what effect it will have on my emotions to have to pretend to be your wife again. It's really too much to ask of me when I know you're in love with another woman! 'Why me?' she demanded. 'I've been your wife once. Why not have a change? Wouldn't Annabel do just as well?'

Terrill smiled again and the candles reflected a flame of light in the darkness of his eyes. 'Better maybe in some ways, but far too distracting. No, Fern, for this kind of business, I don't need Annabel. You'll do fine now that you've matured somewhat. I like your style these days, the way you drove through elephant country this afternoon without turning a hair. There's something solid and dependable about you. Annabel is alluring in her own setting, but too flyaway, not reliable.' 'You make me sound like a Girl Guide!' Fern protested. 'And I can tell you now that a lot of my hairs turned when I drove through your horrible wilderness this afternoon!' 'But you didn't become a nervous wreck about it, that's the main thing. Now come on, Fern, how about it? Something you always wanted before—a dream of a honeymoon in most glamorous surroundings. What woman could resist it?' 'I could,' said Fern. 'Come, Fern, I really need your help.' 'You never have before.' 'If I solemnly promise that nothing will happen between us that you don't want to happen, how about that?' 'Could you keep that promise?' she asked cynically. 'Certainly, always provided that those lips don't ask to be kissed and that lovely body doesn't respond instantly to my own.' 'I can promise you something too, Terrill, that it certainly won't happen again, particularly in those special circumstances.'

Terrill sighed. 'All these frustrating promises! And it was so lovely while it lasted.' 'If you're going to say things like that, I warn you, Terrill, I can't come,' she said firmly. 'Then my lips are sealed. It means an enormous lot to me to catch this man. I really need to get this guy. Think of all those animals that have been killed just to encourage his greed. You saw how shocking were the results. It's a small thing to pretend to be a married couple, specially when we've had experience of being just that. Nobody else need ever know.' Except us two, thought Fern, and certainly I don't trust him. But when she thought of the horrible scene at the poachers' hide, her resolve wavered. 'All right,' she said, 'I'll do it—but only on condition that you don't…' 'Very well, I get your meaning. I knew you wouldn't let me down. Wyatt can come here tomorrow to fetch Crispin and the Africans to the other camp and we'll start out for the coast the next day.' 'But what about clothes?' asked Fern. 'The gear I have with me is hardly suitable for a vacation by the shore.' 'We can buy some when we get there. All you'll need is a bikini and the bright cotton pieces of material that they sell in the shops there to wrap around you.' Fern thought she didn't want Terrill to buy clothes for her, but she seemed to be getting swept along in the wake of his enthusiasm for his plan. He had promised she could trust him. The only problem, of course, was— could she trust herself?

CHAPTER EIGHT THEY would not be able to go to the coast until the next day because it would be late to start out after Wyatt had come to transport Crispin and Daniel and his family back to the main camp. Wyatt came breezing in in a Range Rover during the afternoon. He was to exchange this with Terrill's vehicle as it looked more suitable for a couple on vacation. He whistled loudly when he saw the haul from the poachers' trove. 'You'd better take most of this back with you,' Terrill told "him. 'I'm just going to take a token lot, enough to show this fellow, with a promise of more to come.' 'If you intend to do that on your own, how are you going to manage to arrest him?' queried Wyatt. 'He's sure to have people with him.' 'When I see the dhow arriving, I'll radio for your help,' said Terrill. 'I needn't contact him immediately. You can charter the light plane and get to the coast as quickly as you can. You can bring Daniel and a couple of others.' 'But are you going to the coast alone?' 'No, I'm taking Fern with me. I intend we should pretend to be tourists. That way any accomplices he has at the place won't suspect a trap.' 'Oh, so I'm only to take Crispin back with me, am I?' Fern didn't like the way Wyatt looked knowingly in her direction, but he didn't say anything. Probably he did not dare question Terrill's motives, but later Terrill must have told him of the plan, and when she found herself alone with Wyatt, he was more direct.

'This is an about-turn and no mistake! I thought you two were supposed to have been divorced. Fern, are you sure you know what you're letting yourself in for with all this?' 'What do you mean?' she said distantly. 'It's nothing to do with me, of course, it's entirely your own business, and you should know Terrill's nature by now. Of course I admire Terrill tremendously, he's a man's man through and through, but I can see you've been hurt by him in the past, so why lay yourself open to still more hurt now?' 'I can see you think Terrill is planning to have a short affair with me while we're at the coast, even though I'm his ex-wife—but, Wyatt, it isn't like that. Terrill is keen to see this Arab caught and I think it's right he should be. After seeing all that loot and thinking of all the animals that have been killed, I'm willing to help him any way I can, and he thinks this plan will work best. It certainly won't be a real honeymoon, if that's what you're thinking. I'm willing to pretend to other people that I'm still his wife, even his new wife, just for a few days, but there's nothing else to it. I certainly don't intend to have an affair with him, short or otherwise. I had enough heartbreak before; I don't want that over again.' 'Are you sure of that, Fern?' queried Wyatt. 'Knowing Terrill, I would think it highly unlikely that he intends to be a brother to you over the next few days. Just as long as you realise that and don't let yourself in for a lot of grief.' 'Wyatt, it's good of you to be so concerned about me, but I'm not as easily won over as you seem to think. It took a long time for my heart to mend the first time, but I know better what I'm doing now. I certainly don't intend to end up with a broken heart once more. I know how to defend myself against that, and I tell you again, this is all to be make-believe. I don't intend it should be anything else.

Besides, it may only be for a couple of days, and he'll be busy investigating the poaching ring most of the time, I should think.' 'Well, just so he isn't occupied with making love to you for the rest of the time.' Wyatt looked so fierce, with his frowning, bright blue eyes, his blond Viking beard bristling, his large features sunbronzed and red, that Fern laughed and said, 'Oh, Wyatt, Terrill is supposed to be your best friend! You couldn't be jealous of him, could you?' 'I could at that, but just remember how I warned you when you're feeling you could be swept away by the glamour of the moonlit beach and the waving palm trees and those romantic honeymoon chalets close to the murmuring waves.' Of course Wyatt probably knew that Terrill was in love with his sister, Annabel, and this was his way of protecting her interests, but he had only confirmed her own doubts about the plan to go with Terrill to the coast. He had annoyed her, and yet she was sorry to see him go. He was to take the prisoner back to the main camp, and when he had departed with him and with Daniel and Florence and the two boys, the camp seemed very quiet, in spite of the constant twittering of the weaver birds from their nests that were swinging on the branches of the fig tree. Terrill was occupying himself with practical matters. Wyatt had brought the Range Rover and taken the rougher-looking vehicle back with him, and this was all to lend credence to their story. Now Terrill was packing up the skins with sacking that Wyatt had brought with him. Florence had roasted a chicken before her departure, and all Fern had to do was to open a couple of tins of potato salad and asparagus, and she still had some of Florence's delicious home-made bread to accompany it.

'Tomorrow, you'll see, we'll be in a far more glamorous setting, even though our purpose doesn't particularly lend itself to glamour,' Terrill told her. 'I've become used to this setting,' said Fern. 'I like this place—I like the rather tumbledown huts, whitewashed with thatched roofs, and I like the great fig tree with all its fascinating inhabitants.' 'You're as bad as Crispin with his liking for the older camp! And how totally different from Annabel you are. She would hate the discomfort of all this—but then she's more sophisticated than you were when you were here before. You couldn't expect anyone as beautiful as her to be otherwise, I suppose.' Fern was surprised that she felt a sharp stab of something—could it be jealousy? It seemed as if Annabel's beauty could excuse any of her faults, and yet would she make a good ranger's wife? Fern hardly thought so. Terrill seemed very practical tonight, discussing details of the morrow's journey. Perhaps, thought Fern, he was determined not to alarm her. He was so set on this plan to catch the ringleaders of the gang. 'We'll have to make an early start,' he told her. 'I hope to get going by five. I won't bother to keep the fire going tonight. We haven't been worried with any animals so far, and we'll just risk it for the last few hours here. The hut itself is fairly secure and any animal that comes into the camp will probably make its way out again without our even knowing about it.' 'What about elephants?' asked Fern. 'It's rather difficult not to notice them.'

'They seem to have deserted this area—possibly because of all the poaching. I don't think we need be worried that they'll come here tonight.' 'I hope it's not a case of "famous last words",' Fern told him. 'You shouldn't be scared of elephants. Their reputation as man-killers is grossly exaggerated. It's only when they're provoked that they really charge, and even then their charges are usually a bit of showmanship, calculated to warn off whatever is in the way. When they come to a pool, they don't allow anything else to drink there until they've finished.' 'I shouldn't think smaller animals want to drink there and risk being trodden underfoot,' Fern commented. 'Oh, they're mild enough in temperament when you know them well. I've even heard of a plover being able to warn them off when she thought their feet threatened her nest.' Fern had already packed the few clothes she had brought with her, and she was soon in bed. She had even become used to the hard mattress, and, after listening to the sounds of the African night, the chirping of innumerable crickets, the crystal sound of a bell bat in the fig tree, the far-off squabbling of hyenas and now and then the eerie yelp of a jackal, she soon fell asleep. She seemed to have been sleeping for quite some time when she was suddenly jerked awake. What had wakened her? Everything seemed quiet now. Even the crickets had ceased their cheerful chorus and the bat must have flown away on its nightly hunting. There it was again, the noise that must have roused her, a kind of scratching as if a cat were trying to sharpen its claws on something. A cat? But there were no cats here. Now she was fully awake and able to realise where she was. Of course there were no cats. But there

were other things, far more dangerous. There it was again, that scratching noise, this time accompanied by a faint grunt. The room was dark except that bright moonlight cast a reflection of the window upon the floor beside her bed, and now there was something that was partly blocking out the moonlight, the black silhouette of a whiskered head and heavy body peering in and trying to scratch down the broken fly screen that was all the protection between Fern and this wild beast. Fearfully she turned her head towards the aperture of the window— and tried hard to suppress a scream. The moonlight shone on to the fierce, long, whiskered head of a leopard, its cold yellow eyes seeming to gaze right at her. Its claws were pulling at the screen which was the only protection against its onslaught. She must get away before those claws achieved their object! Although she felt as if she had been paralysed with fright, she somehow managed to get herself to the door, fumbling with the oldfashioned door latch until she at last got it open and quietly inched her way through, closing it again. Then she hurled herself across the living room and, without knocking, burst into Terrill's room. In the seconds before his eyes opened, she saw his face relaxed in sleep, younger and more vulnerable- looking than that of the man she saw by day, and then he was awake, startled at first, but then holding out his arms and pulling her down beside him, and, as her body was pressed against his, she felt pulses in her wrists, throat and temples beginning to beat rapidly. 'Fern, what is this?' he muttered. 'What a pleasant surprise! Have you changed your mind?' Caught up against him by those demanding hands, she could feel the tautness of his muscles rippling beneath the bronzed nakedness of his chest and his heart beneath hers beating like some great drum.

'Let me go, Terrill,' she managed to gasp out. 'Let me go at once! Of course I haven't changed my mind. It's just a small matter of a leopard trying to get into my room, that's all!' Terrill threw back his head and laughed. 'Nonsense, girl, you've been having a dream, because of the leopard you saw at the pool. Leopards don't try to get into people's houses. They have quite a healthy respect for us. But you can stay here with pleasure. You don't have to think up an excuse like that.' And again he reached out his arms to her, but she refused to respond to the thrilling sensations aroused by the touch of his hands through the thin stuff of her nightgown. 'There was a leopard, and it's trying to get into the house. Please listen to me, Terrill! Otherwise it will have made its way inside.' Terrill yawned and stretched his arms above his head. There were curling tendrils of dark hair on his chest and the hair on his head was as ruffled and curly as Crispin's, making him look boyish and charming and like he had looked when she first knew him. 'Oh, very well, I suppose I must investigate, though I still think you've had a dream, and I can think of much better ways of spending the night now we're both thoroughly awake. Do you want to stay here while I go and have a look?' 'No, I'll come with you.' He put his arm around her waist, and she was glad of its support as he led her across the living room to the door of her bedroom. 'Don't open the door,' she implored him.

'Well, if a leopard had got in it should be making more noise than that,' he commented. All seemed quiet. Very cautiously Terrill opened the top of the stable door just a slit, and then a little more. 'There you are, what did I tell you? There's nothing there. You must have had a dream.' 'I'm sure I didn't,' Fern denied. 'If you don't believe me, have a look at that window.' 'That window was in pretty poor shape before you had your dream.' 'I tell you it wasn't a dream! It was real.' 'Have it your own way, but now we'd better try to snatch a couple of hours' sleep before this early start. Would you like me to sleep here? I can fetch my sleeping bag.' 'Certainly not!' She would have liked to say yes to his suggestion, but he seemed so convinced that she had imagined the leopard that she couldn't say she wanted him to sleep here now. Could he be thinking she had made it all up as an excuse to go to his room? And now how could she have another wink of sleep thinking of the sight of that fierce, whiskered