intimidated by Sara, her uber QC, swathed in a Joseph suit, swanning up from London into her small Home Counties home. She made direct, unfaltering eye contact, feeling no need to soften its gaze with the warmth of a smile.
Sara couldnât understand this kind of confidence when it wasnât attached to a career. How could a woman who did nothing for a living be this self-possessed?
Joanne Sutton led her out to a narrow strip of a garden around thirty feet long with low-slung fences, opening them out to the full view of the neighbours on either side. Joanne Sutton had already placed an off-white tray on an olive metal garden table to one side of the narrow decking. A cafetière of coffee, two spotty mugs, a matching jug and side plates, and a homemade chocolate cake were pristinely waiting.
Sara was horrified. The idea of settling down to a cosy cuppa in the garden had only reinforced their inappropriate intimacy. Yet she didnât refuse a second slice of the chocolate cake, more tasty than the organic one from Tomâs Deli on Westbourne Grove. Joanne Sutton was determined to let Sara finish her coffee and cake before she spoke.
The time eating cake, which Joanne Sutton didnât fill with small talk, gave Sara an unexpected break. She gazed at the lush lawn, bordered by full, dense beds with an array of colour. Tall stocks waved in the wind with the odd purple allium adding to the colour and lightness. There were cream metal baskets hanging from both fences with white china pots, dense with pink petunias. An oak garden bench was decorated withtwo large brown knitted cushions, done up with oversized buttons. Every detail of Joanne Suttonâs home was arranged, ultimately cared for, that Sara was stirred by her unresolved pain. She rationalized that it was absurd to envy Joanne Sutton. But she did. The feeling hadnât gone away.
Ben radioed to say he had had no luck. He was up a tree waiting for them. They all helped to pack up, before careering back into the bush to find him. Sara cheered up, spotting his capped head up above a Shepherdâs Tree. They were off back to Gae, refuelled, re-energised and eager to spot animals.
âSecretary birds. Two flying.â Luke.
âSpringbok a leaping.â Julian.
âOstrich! Complete with orange bum feathers.â Lizzie.
âOver there, look, two beautiful impalas.â Dan.
âZebra alert.â Matt.
âTwin zebra alert,â Luke.
âChrist. Youâre like a bunch of children with ADD.â Sara snapped.
They laughed together, hilariously happy. Unfettered laughter that left them aching and weeping with their jaws cramped. And Sara buried Joanne Suttonâs evidence back into her subconscious.
Chapter 9
Verbesina encelioides
. The Latin classification sounded more alluring than âwild sunflowerâ, the species checklist translation. It was commonly known as a South African daisy. Dan put down the list and shifted up the terracotta lounger. His face was completely sheltered by the beige umbrella. He half-shut his eyes. The daisies merged into a bobbing block of yolky colour. The list was right: it was an alien species. Native to United States and Mexico. Far from home.
Dan was amazed by how easily he had adapted. He didnât like animals. He was uncomfortable with domestic pets. He hated it when Connieâs cats, Rolo and Minstrel, unceremoniously pounced, hairs rising. They smelled like a urinal. Lions up close and personal had absolutely petrified him. Walking into black rhino, if they ever found them, was going to be a potent test of his loyalty to Connie.
He had believed âarid Savannaâ to be exactly that. However, there were four different but dominant grass species on the reserve. This fascinated him. Dune Bushmanâs Grass (S
tipagrostis amabilis
) was a hardy, tufted grass around two metres tall, which stretched over the crests of sand dunes, preventing erosion. Then there was the
Sara couldnât understand this kind of confidence when it wasnât attached to a career. How could a woman who did nothing for a living be this self-possessed?
Joanne Sutton led her out to a narrow strip of a garden around thirty feet long with low-slung fences, opening them out to the full view of the neighbours on either side. Joanne Sutton had already placed an off-white tray on an olive metal garden table to one side of the narrow decking. A cafetière of coffee, two spotty mugs, a matching jug and side plates, and a homemade chocolate cake were pristinely waiting.
Sara was horrified. The idea of settling down to a cosy cuppa in the garden had only reinforced their inappropriate intimacy. Yet she didnât refuse a second slice of the chocolate cake, more tasty than the organic one from Tomâs Deli on Westbourne Grove. Joanne Sutton was determined to let Sara finish her coffee and cake before she spoke.
The time eating cake, which Joanne Sutton didnât fill with small talk, gave Sara an unexpected break. She gazed at the lush lawn, bordered by full, dense beds with an array of colour. Tall stocks waved in the wind with the odd purple allium adding to the colour and lightness. There were cream metal baskets hanging from both fences with white china pots, dense with pink petunias. An oak garden bench was decorated withtwo large brown knitted cushions, done up with oversized buttons. Every detail of Joanne Suttonâs home was arranged, ultimately cared for, that Sara was stirred by her unresolved pain. She rationalized that it was absurd to envy Joanne Sutton. But she did. The feeling hadnât gone away.
Ben radioed to say he had had no luck. He was up a tree waiting for them. They all helped to pack up, before careering back into the bush to find him. Sara cheered up, spotting his capped head up above a Shepherdâs Tree. They were off back to Gae, refuelled, re-energised and eager to spot animals.
âSecretary birds. Two flying.â Luke.
âSpringbok a leaping.â Julian.
âOstrich! Complete with orange bum feathers.â Lizzie.
âOver there, look, two beautiful impalas.â Dan.
âZebra alert.â Matt.
âTwin zebra alert,â Luke.
âChrist. Youâre like a bunch of children with ADD.â Sara snapped.
They laughed together, hilariously happy. Unfettered laughter that left them aching and weeping with their jaws cramped. And Sara buried Joanne Suttonâs evidence back into her subconscious.
Chapter 9
Verbesina encelioides
. The Latin classification sounded more alluring than âwild sunflowerâ, the species checklist translation. It was commonly known as a South African daisy. Dan put down the list and shifted up the terracotta lounger. His face was completely sheltered by the beige umbrella. He half-shut his eyes. The daisies merged into a bobbing block of yolky colour. The list was right: it was an alien species. Native to United States and Mexico. Far from home.
Dan was amazed by how easily he had adapted. He didnât like animals. He was uncomfortable with domestic pets. He hated it when Connieâs cats, Rolo and Minstrel, unceremoniously pounced, hairs rising. They smelled like a urinal. Lions up close and personal had absolutely petrified him. Walking into black rhino, if they ever found them, was going to be a potent test of his loyalty to Connie.
He had believed âarid Savannaâ to be exactly that. However, there were four different but dominant grass species on the reserve. This fascinated him. Dune Bushmanâs Grass (S
tipagrostis amabilis
) was a hardy, tufted grass around two metres tall, which stretched over the crests of sand dunes, preventing erosion. Then there was the
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