“We weren’t very glorious, I’m afraid,” Denys said, sketching it in for me. “Most of our casualties came from tsetse fly and bush-rat stew.”
It was almost a kind of dance, how funny and clever these two were together—lighter than air. Before long we were all a little drunk from the champagne we’d been swilling, and it had got quite late. “Let’s take a few bottles over to Mbogani,” Denys said suddenly to Berkeley. “The baroness is on her own tonight.”
Baroness? The word jangled. Cockie Birkbeck had used it in the Norfolk the day she’d told me about Blix’s situation and his wife.
“I can’t leave my own party,” Berkeley said. “It’s too late anyway, and you’re in no state to drive.”
“I have a mother, thank you very much.” Denys turned his back on Berkeley and fixed on me. “Want to go for a ride into the country, Beryl?”
Berkeley shook his head, warning me off. I stood there for a moment, wondering how serious Denys was, and whether they were in fact speaking of Blix’s wife. But before I could begin to sort it out or say a word, Denys strode over to the bar, wrestled three bottles of champagne into his arms, and was on his way out of the door. Berkeley laughed. I was dumbstruck.
“Good night,” Denys sang back over his shoulder before passing out of sight.
“Shall we have one more nip and turn in?” Berkeley asked.
I still hadn’t caught up. “What just happened?”
“Merely Denys being Denys,” he said mysteriously, and reached for my hand.
D and I stayed over at Berkeley’s that night—camping out on thick rafts of Somali-made quilts with a handful of other tipsy guests. Every time I rolled over, I felt the sore place on my hip, and Denys’s image flickered up like a new ghost. But when it was time to leave the next day, he still hadn’t returned. Somehow that made me even more curious about him. The moment with the cobra might have worked to cement us in a strange way, or maybe Denys was just nicer to look at and more confident than almost any man I’d ever met. Either way, I was already thinking of how good it would be to see him again.
“You’ll let Denys know I said goodbye?” I asked Berkeley as D went off to fetch the wagon for us.
“Hmm?” He gave me a curious look. “Please tell me you haven’t fallen for Finch Hatton, too, darling.”
“Don’t be silly.” I felt myself flush. “I like him, that’s all.”
“Is that so?” He stroked his moustache. “I’ve never known a woman who could resist him. They fall for him by the dozens, but he never seems to fall for anyone.”
“No one?”
He shrugged. “Desperately sorry about the business with the horse, by the way. You won’t hold it against me, I hope.”
“Of course not. I’d buy him if I could, but Jock holds the purse strings and I’m trying to be done with all that. With marriage, I mean. I haven’t quite known how to talk about it.”
“I’ve been wondering what’s going on between the two of you, what with your working for D and all.” His voice was kind, not judgemental, as I had feared.
“It’s not so common for women in the colony to stray far from their duties, I suppose.”
He shook his head. “Send word if you need anything. Or whistle,” he added, smiling.
“I will,” I assured him. And then D roared up with the wagon, and we were away.
—
Ringleader’s training was coming along bit by bit. He had the right breeding to win and the right nerves, too. If only his legs would heal properly. I continued to exercise him along the mud-soft shoreline of Elmenteita, liking the time to myself as well. Even with the flamingos it was far less chaotic there than at the ranch. I always felt myself grow calmer as I connected to Ringleader’s movements, his stride, and also to the rich landscape around us. The lake formed a shallow basin that opened up to green savannah in every direction. Low and knobby hill formations sprang up here and there, and the swooping lines of the mountain called the Sleeping Warrior. Its reflection was often painted perfectly on the flat surface of the lake and studded with flamingos at rest like a fan of bright jewels. It was beautiful country, and though none of it moved me as much as Njoro did, Soysambu was beginning to grow on me, and even to feel like a place where I could happily stay.
One day after I had run Ringleader to the edge of his gallop, encouraged by his growing strength and confidence, I saw a car coming overland from a few miles away, pointing as straight at Soysambu as the crow flies. I didn’t know who might be bold enough to leave the main road. It had rained on and off for several days, and the tyres were kicking up pellets of mud, sending a large group of eland zigzagging off over the bush. When the vehicle drew nearer, I recognized Denys.