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‘I am here, Just Janie.’ His voice is low and soothing. ‘I am here.’
‘Just checking.’ And with that I sink into sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Dominic brings me tea at five-thirty in the morning. ‘Did you sleep well, Just Janie?’
I smile at him as I rub a hand through my hair, wondering just how tousled it is. ‘I did. Thank you again, Dominic.’
‘Hakuna matata.’ He stands and looks down at me in my bed, his features soft in the dawn light.
I want to say more to him, to explain to him just what a comfort he was to me in the dark night, but I can’t find the right words. I feel like a different woman just having him near me.
‘If you are happy, then I am happy,’ he says as he pours my tea. ‘Today we start our game drive in half an hour. We will take a picnic breakfast. This is good?’
‘Sounds fabulous.’
And, as planned, half an hour later we’re all in the minibus again, heading off into the Maasai Mara. I take my place at the front near Dominic while Sean and Maura, Pat and John sit in the back and it seems natural that I do so. Is it my imagination or is there a special bond between Dominic and I this morning? His warm smile seems to be just for me and I’m sure that there’s even more of a twinkle in his eye than there was yesterday.
We follow a winding herd of wildebeest meandering towards the Mara river, the last stragglers of the massive annual migration to the Serengeti, Dominic explains. Mixed in with them are zebras and different varieties of gazelle that are also making the journey.
‘The wildebeest is an animal made from spare parts of others,’ he then tells us.
It’s certainly a strange and ungainly looking thing.
‘It has the face of a locust, the beard of a goat, the body of a cow, the tail of a horse, the brain of a housefly and the legs of Posh Spice.’
He grins in amusement at his own joke and I smile back at him
We see a herd of elephants traversing across the plains in search of water. There are two babies with them, which causes much oohing and aahing, and the herd gather them in protectively. As well as wildebeest, babies of any kind are vulnerable to attacks from the many predators. Then we drive down to the water’s edge and stand in the bus, roof open again, to watch dozens of crocodiles marshalling as the ditzy wildebeest dither about whether to make the dangerous journey across the river or not.
‘The water is full of crocodiles waiting to eat them,’ Dominic says, ‘but the wildebeest are willing to risk life itself to get to the green pastures on the other side.’
An hour later and there’s still a stand off between hesitant snack and hungry croc, so Dominic turns the bus away and finds us a quiet picnic spot beside the river, far away from the crocodiles, where we can have our breakfast.
Below us, however, there are around a hundred happy hippos all cuddled up together, snoozing in the water, their pink tummies turned to the sun. Sean and Maura snap away at them while I help Dominic to unload our picnic box. Breakfast in the bush consists of warm pancakes, fresh fruit, yoghurt, and there’s a huge thermos of coffee and one of orange juice. Along the scrubby trees by the water’s edge, pretty yellow and green bee-eaters dart about searching for their own morning meal.
We spread out the fare on a Maasai blanket that’s woven with blue and red checks. ‘This is a tartan kanga,’ Dominic says, ‘from the McMaasai.’
Obligingly, I laugh at his silly joke and that makes him giggle more.
Then, as we wait for our companions, Dominic says, ‘Look!’ He puts his strong hands on my shoulders and turns me towards an acacia tree in the middle distance. ‘A lilac-breasted roller.’
A strikingly beautiful bird with lilac, blue and gold plumage sings back at us. ‘Oh my.’
But while I try hard to concentrate on the stunning bird, I can’t help but notice how small I am against Dominic’s tall rangy frame, or how taut his body is. There’s not an inch of spare flesh over his powerful muscles and his strong hands on my shoulders burn through my T-shirt.
‘It is very lovely, is it not?’
‘Oh, yes.’ I think I’m still talking about the bird.
‘Lovely jubbly!’
Then Sean and Maura join us and the lilac-breasted roller flies away. ‘Oh, it’s gone!’
‘We will see many more beautiful things, Just Janie,’ he says. He squeezes my arms lightly. ‘Do not worry.’
Dominic takes his hands from my shoulders and turns his attention back to our picnic. While Pat and John tuck into their breakfast, I take a photograph of Sean and Maura, arms entwined, sitting on the edge of the blanket, smiling into the lens. For the first time, I feel a pang of jealousy at their obvious happiness and I wonder whether I am destined to be alone and why I can’t find someone to love who loves me in return.
