sleep in the pick-up?’
‘I’m fine, thank you, Bill.’
The hotel lobby was deserted as it was past two in the morning and a night porter showed them up to their room. As the door closed behind them, Cecily looked at the bed and then at Bill, and thought it seemed awfully small to accommodate the both of them.
‘God, that entire carnival has exhausted me more than a day out shooting game in the Bush,’ Bill said as he stripped off his jacket and shirt, followed by his pants.
Cecily sat down on the other side of the bed with her back to him and primly removed her hat and then her jacket.
A hand was placed on her shoulder.
‘Listen, if this is too uncomfortable for you, I can always sleep in the pick-up.’
‘Oh no, I’m fine.’
Cecily stood up to open her case and find her nightgown. She heard the creak of the bed behind her as Bill climbed beneath the sheets.
‘I won’t look, I promise,’ he said, turning away.
Blushing profusely, Cecily removed her dress, slip and brassiere and hurriedly pulled the long muslin nightgown over her head.
‘Good Lord! You look like something out of a Jane Austen novel,’ he said as she slipped into bed next to him. The bed was so small she could feel the heat from his body next to her.
‘Look here, Cecily,’ he said as he turned her head towards him. ‘Given your current . . . condition, I don’t feel it’s appropriate to do what one would normally do on one’s wedding night. So, I’ll simply say goodnight, Mrs Forsythe, and sleep well.’
Bill kissed her on the forehead, then rolled over onto his side away from her. Within a few seconds, she heard him snoring gently. She lay there, listening to the rain beat on the roof of the hotel and the panes of the window.
And only wished that she could do what people normally did . . .
Cecily stirred the next morning as a hand was placed on her shoulder. She blinked and in a sudden flash, the events of the previous day came back to her. She looked up at Bill, and could see the pink glow of dawn creeping through a gap in the curtains behind him.
‘Good morning,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I ordered room service. Have some breakfast.’
Cecily sat up as Bill placed a tray gently on her lap.
‘I know you like your coffee black,’ he said, indicating the steaming cup, which was accompanied by triangles of toast and small pots of jam. ‘Eat up and then get dressed. Then we’ll head out.’
‘Out?’ she asked, picking up the coffee. ‘Where are we going?’
‘It’s a surprise,’ he said, then went into the bathroom. Cecily heard the faucet running, and took a bite of her toast, feeling as hungry as she ever had.
Once she was dressed, Bill, now attired in his habitual khaki, led her out of the hotel and into the pick-up, where Nygasi was stationed at the back. She wondered where he had slept, and thought that she might as well become accustomed to his presence, as it was so rare to see Bill without him.
Bill opened the door and helped her up, then climbed in beside her and started the engine. He gave no hint of where they were going, but Cecily was content to enjoy the morning breeze on her face as they drove through bustling Nairobi, happy that the rains of last night had not yet returned and the sun was once more radiant in the sky. An hour later they arrived at the edge of an airfield and Cecily looked at him quizzically.
‘As there won’t be a honeymoon, especially now the rains have come and the cattle will be on the move, I thought that you deserved a wedding present. And I wondered what could I give you – I’ve been a bachelor for so long, all I know of is Kenya and its nature. So, come along, I have something to show you. And I do hope you aren’t afraid of heights,’ he added.
He helped her out of the pick-up and led her towards a small biplane which was sitting on the runway, with a man in overalls standing next to it.
‘All right there, Bill?’ said the man cheerfully as they reached him. ‘And this is your young wife, is it? Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs Forsythe.’
‘It’s nice to meet you too,’ she responded automatically.
‘She’s all fuelled up and she’s been serviced,’ the man said. ‘That’s