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‘I wish you could see my world,’ I say to him wistfully. ‘Our lives are so easy compared to yours.’
‘That is the way of life, Just Janie. We must accept it.’ His dark fingers travel my body. ‘I see you have no scars from wild animals.’
‘No. No scars at all.’ Only on my heart, I think, and I’ve just sustained one that will never fade.
We lie together, me fighting sleep all the way, until the first light of dawn creeps over the horizon and it’s time for me to go.
Chapter Thirty
It’s pouring down with rain and it’s seven degrees. I shiver with cold. Mike is waiting at the barrier in the arrivals hall at Heathrow with a handwritten sign saying, WELCOME HOME JANIE! I force a smile when I see him, though my heart feels as heavy as lead.
Mike is beaming, solicitous. He pats me on the back, saying, ‘Well, well, well,’ and immediately takes my case from me. ‘You look fabulous. That African sun has given you a healthy glow and some freckles.’ Together, we march out of the airport and towards the car park, Mike’s hand under my elbow, guiding me.
I feel shell-shocked, like a woman who has awoken from a dream – a lovely dream. Every mile I travel away from Dominic, it seems that another little piece of my heart splinters away. The greyness, the icy needles of rain, the press of people – these seem more remote to me now than the colour and heat of the African plains. Do I really live here? Is this dirty, noisy, freezing place my home?
‘Archie’s been missing you.’
‘Has he?’ I realise that I really want to see my curmudgeonly cat, and risk life and limb by giving him a big cuddle.
‘Well, you know Archie,’ Mike admits, meaning that as long as someone has been opening a tin for him, he’s been fine. ‘Did you have a great trip? I thought of you all the time,’ Mike gabbles on. ‘I was very jealous.’
‘It was marvellous,’ I manage, hardly able to find my voice.
‘Better than you expected?’
‘Yes, more than I could ever have imagined.’ How true is that?
‘What did you see? The Big Five?’
‘Yes,’ I say. ‘Yes, we did.’
We dodge the traffic on the perimeter road and even though we had to contend with the legendary rush of traffic in Nairobi, it seems like nothing compared with this. Mike nips nimbly through the cars while I lag behind him, moving like a sloth. How ridiculously cramped England seems compared to the vast openness of the Maasai Mara.
‘Everything all right?’ Mike asks, a frown of concern on his brow.
‘Yes, yes,’ I say. ‘I’m fine. I’m sorry I’m a bit quiet. It’s just been a very long journey back.’ I raise a tired smile. ‘All I want now is a cup of tea and a hot bath.’
Mike throws my case in the back and then we slip into the car. Can it only be a week since we were last here? So much as happened that I don’t think my brain can process it.
‘Thank you, Mike. This is so kind of you to pick me up.’
‘Nonsense,’ he says, ‘no thanks necessary. It’s my pleasure.’
My friend, my neighbour, seems ludicrously pleased to see me and in other circumstances, I’m sure that would give me the lift I need. But since our kiss, I feel that things have changed between us and then, since Dominic, I feel my whole world has shifted on its axis and it’s taking some getting used to.
‘I know you’re tired,’ Mike steers the car out of the airport and onto the motorway, ‘but I’ve sort of made a casserole, if you’re up for it. Thought you wouldn’t feel like cooking.’
‘That’s very thoughtful.’ He’s right, I don’t feel like cooking. I don’t feel like going back to work. I don’t feel like myself at all.
I sink into the seat and let the thrum of motorway traffic lull me into a trance. The rain and the grey sky blur away and all I can see is the wide blue African sky and the vast open Mara stretching ahead of me.
‘You really are OK?’ Mike can sense that something is wrong. ‘You weren’t mugged or anything like that?’
‘No, no,’ I assure him. ‘Nothing like that.’
My heart was stolen, that’s all, I want to say to him. I know exactly who has taken it. It’s out there on the African plains with Dominic Ole Nangon, Maasai warrior and wonderful man. And I have no idea how I might get it back.
Chapter Thirty-One
Mike carries my case into the cottage and then fusses around me for no particular purpose. Archie comes to wind himself around my legs and I bend to fuss him, burying my face in his neck, which he tolerates benignly for a few seconds before scooting away, homecoming ritual completed. Now he heads to the kitchen and the cupboard where his food is kept and feigns hunger, acting out that he hasn’t been fed at all for the week I’ve been away and that Mike, a poor substitute, has totally neglected him.
