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My breath catches in my throat as together we watch the firelight flicker, catch and fade.
‘Am I wrong to think this?’ Concern laces his voice.
‘No,’ I say. ‘Not at all.’ Tears spring to my eyes. ‘I wasn’t looking for love, Dominic. I thought that it wasn’t for me. And never, not in a million years, did I expect to find it here in Africa.’
‘I was not looking for love either, Just Janie.’ He grins at me. ‘But I think we may have found it.’
We both laugh, hesitantly.
‘It is a game,’ he continues, ‘like looking for the wild animals. When you want to see them most, they hide away! Love is the same. You can look and look and look and find nothing. Then, when you are not looking, suddenly it springs out at you or creeps up from behind!’
A breeze ruffles the acacia trees and fans the flames of the fire. We bask in its glow. Dominic pulls the warm Maasai kanga tighter around my shoulders.
‘What do we do now?’ I want to know.
‘We must be very respectful of our companions,’ he says seriously. ‘I do not want them to think that I neglect my duty to them.’
‘No, no. Of course not.’
‘Then we will look at my country together and I will show you wonderful things.’
But with a secret between us, an extra special bond. ‘I can’t wait.’
‘Now you must go to bed, Just Janie. We have a long day again tomorrow.’
‘I don’t want to leave you.’
‘I will be outside your tent all night and every night,’ he assures me, ‘for as long as you need me.’ With that, he stands and says, ‘Come, Janie.’ And he escorts me away from the fire and back to my tent, his arm slung casually around my shoulders.
There, in the pitch darkness on the veranda, he takes me into his arms and holds me tight and I let my soft body mould against his.
‘Maasai men do not kiss women,’ he says softly as he strokes my cheek. ‘I think that this is a mistake.’
Dominic lifts my face to his and his lips find mine and it is so different to anything I’ve ever experienced before. He tastes of Africa, of the wild, of the untamed, which is at odds with the full, gentle sensuality of his mouth, the tenderness of his kiss. I lose myself in the moment letting the night, the sensations, overwhelm me. If I were to die now, I would die a very happy woman.
Then I remember the lions prowling around the camp and think that perhaps I’d rather not die at all. Perhaps I’d rather just stay here in his arms for ever, miles away from the hairdressing salon, from my twee little village of Nashley, from the life that I have known.
Slowly unwinding me from our embrace, Dominic then zips open my tent for me and I step inside. A lion roars in the darkness and is answered by the trumpet of an elephant. This time I don’t quiver with fear, but that’s because Dominic is here.
I reach out and touch his arm. ‘You’ll be here?’
‘Always.’ He lays his blanket on the floor across the opening to my tent. ‘Right here. Tonight you will not be afraid.’
‘No, I won’t be.’ I stand on tiptoe to kiss him again. ‘Good night, Dominic.’
‘Usiku mwema. Good night, Just Janie. Sleep tight,’ he says with a grin on his face. ‘Don’t let the lions bite.’
And, inside my tent, I lie down in the dark next to him.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
So, as it always is when you want time to pass slowly, the rest of the week positively races by. A week is such a tiny amount of time and I’m wishing now that I could stay longer – weeks, months, perhaps never go home to Buckinghamshire again.
Each day we go out on game drives. Once early in the morning when the daytime animals are stirring and the night time prowlers are going home to bed, then again in the late afternoon when the sun is lower and the heat is slowly seeping out of the day. That’s the time when the predators are up and about and ready to feed. We bump around in the van, thanking God for digital cameras that allow us to take more photographs than we’d ever planned for: lions, cheetahs, buffalo, zebras, rhinos, hippos, giraffes, monkeys, baboons, warthogs, jackals, a dozen different type of antelope and more weird and wonderful birds than I’ll ever be able to remember. Dominic, as he promised, has shown us all some wonderful sights.
Now it is our very last evening here at the Kiihu camp. Tomorrow, the other driver takes over again and escorts us on the long dusty drive back to Nairobi. Already it feels like my heart might break.
After dinner, we all linger around the campfire, wanting to make our last evening stretch and stretch, prolonging the agony of departure. For me, more than the others, I never want this night to end. Perhaps they’re going back to full and enjoyable lives and the wrench won’t seem too difficult. Perhaps they want to be back in their own bed, with their own cup of tea, back to loved ones, to a job they adore. All I can think of is that I’ll be going home without Dominic.
