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Dominic nods. ‘I would very much like to become a relevant part of British society.’
‘Christ on a bike, Dominic,’ I mutter. ‘Don’t get carried away. I’m not even sure that I am.’
He laughs at that and I snuggle into him.
‘I think I will walk around the village,’ Dominic says. ‘Make sure that all is well.’
‘The good ladies of Nashley have been demented without you.’
Dominic smiles.
‘They have,’ I say. ‘They spent hours out in the fields looking for you.’
‘Then I must repay them.’
‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘You’ll be chopping their wood and fending off their cake for the rest of your life.’
‘It is the least that I can do.’ But he looks very glad that his ladies have worried about him.
‘Would you like me to come with you?’
‘That would be very nice.’
So I kiss all thoughts of a cosy afternoon on the sofa goodbye and set out with Dominic to take a tour of our village, our home.
Chapter Eighty-Nine
Of course, everyone in the village is delighted to see Dominic back in the fold. The ladies of The Nashley Church Flower Committee are, as I expected, particularly enthralled and cluck around him like mother hens. They kiss him and pet him and touch his body far more than is strictly necessary as Dominic smiles at them indulgently.
It’s decided that a surprise homecoming party is in order and it’s going to be held at the village hall this evening. My only job is to keep Dominic in the dark and to get the guest of honour there on time. It has also been decided that there will be an African theme and I’ve cajoled Mike into burning me copies of the two CDs I bought for him at Nairobi airport to supply suitable music.
‘We’re going out tonight,’ I tell Dominic late in the afternoon. ‘And I want you in your full finery.’
He looks doubtful about this, perhaps remembering what went wrong last time he wore his best tribal costume. ‘Perhaps I should wear my Western clothes?’
‘Hmm,’ I say, as if giving it consideration. ‘Not tonight.’ I lay all his traditional dress out for him and, without objection, he duly puts it on.
Oh, how this takes me back to the disastrous dinner party we had here and now it seems so very long ago. I hope that this party will give Dominic the confidence to believe in himself again and his place in the village.
I help Dominic to get ready. Over the red shuka, he slips his orange skirt decorated with beads and tiny mirrors and ties it low on his hips. So as not to frighten the ladies too much, we decide to leave the accompanying machete at home. He slips on his wrist and ankle bracelets, then winds the strings of beads around his body and tops them with his elaborate wedding necklace.
‘Can I wear the one you brought for me?’
‘No,’ he says solemnly. ‘That must now wait until our formal wedding day, until you are properly my wife.’
My stomach does an ecstatic backflip at the very thought of it and I give him an impromptu hug.
He daubs his cheeks with ochre war paint and, finally, I help him to tie on his elaborate headdress of brown feathers, which fan out in a graceful circle around his handsome face.
‘Beautiful,’ I say as I stand and admire him. ‘Quite magnificent.’
‘Thank you.’ He smiles proudly and he lifts his head in a regal Maasai warrior pose.
‘Now you have to go downstairs while I get ready.’ And as he goes to protest, ‘I won’t be long.’
Quickly, I slip on a printed batik wraparound skirt that I bought on holiday in Ibiza years ago, which has languished in the bottom of my wardrobe ever since. I’m just delighted that it still fits. I top it with a red T-shirt and then loop some beads that I’ve bought at minimum expense from Claire’s Accessories around my body. I’ve also got beaded flip-flops from one of my beach holidays and I slip those into my handbag to be put on when I get there. Not desperately African, but I don’t think the partygoers at the Nashley Village Hall will be too particular. I only hope that Dominic likes it. My coat goes on top of all of it, so that he can’t see how I’m dressed. Then, as it’s coming up to the appointed time, I make my way downstairs.
‘Ready?’ I say to Dominic who is watching an old episode of Strictly Come Dancing that’s still on the Sky+ box, eyes agog.
‘Yes,’ he says. Then, ‘come, cat.’
Archie, the spring back in his step, jumps onto the arm of the sofa, then onto the back, where Dominic then lifts him onto his shoulders.
We make our way through the empty streets of the village, my arm tucked into Dominic’s, until we come to the village hall.
