to Nairobi.’
‘Oh my! Are you sure you can cope without him? You never left him behind to look after me when I was pregnant,’ Cecily remarked, blaming her loose tongue on the gin.
‘No, I didn’t, and I will always regret it.’ He eyed her as he put down his knife and fork. ‘You know there are only so many times that someone can say sorry. Will you ever forgive me for not being there, Cecily?’
‘Of course I forgive you. It wasn’t your baby in the first place,’ she said. ‘Anyway, what is the name of your girl?’
‘She isn’t “my girl”, she is simply under my . . . our protection until she gives birth. Her name is Njala. It means star,’ he murmured. ‘Every name the Maasai gives has a relevance. And so does everything they do.’
Not for the first time, Cecily wondered if Bill wished he’d been born Maasai; he certainly seemed to prefer their company to hers or anyone else in their group.
‘Well, Nygasi must let me know if there is anything she needs.’
‘Thank you for that. And I will. She’s very scared, Cecily.’
‘I’m not surprised. I can’t believe that girls are allowed to get pregnant so young . . .’
‘They’re considered fair game for the morans as soon as they are fertile,’ Bill replied. ‘It’s the way of things out on the plains.’
‘Bill, she is no more than a child and I think it’s obscene.’
‘I’m sure they think the way we live is equally obscene,’ he countered.
A silence ensued, which Cecily eventually decided to break.
‘I saw Katherine a few days ago.’
‘Did you? How is she?’
‘She’s fine. And expecting a baby in May.’
‘I know, Bobby told me. I’m very happy for both of them. Are you?’
‘Of course! They’ll make wonderful parents. Now, if you’re done, I’ll clear away.’
Cecily stood up abruptly, then collected the plates and marched into the kitchen. As she ran the faucet full blast into the sink, she seethed with anger. Did the man not have an ounce of empathy for her suffering?
Bill left early the next morning and Cecily went to work on her garden, grasping weeds by the scruffs of their necks and wrenching them from the soil with the force of a child torn from the womb. Even though she had seen neither Nygasi nor the girl now living on their land, it was as if she could feel their presence in the woods nearby.
When she had finished, she sat with Wolfie on the veranda, enjoying her habitual glass of lemonade as she cooled down along with the heat of the day. After fixing a light supper of vegetable soup, Cecily felt unusually restless and couldn’t settle to reading as she usually did. She looked out at the sky and saw there was still another hour at least before darkness fell.
‘Come on, Wolfie, we’re going to pay a visit to our new neighbour.’
Arming herself with her flashlight and a bottle of water in a canvas bag, Cecily set off with the dog in the direction of the woods. She’d never entered them before, only skirted round them when she was riding over to visit Katherine. They were set uphill, a good half a mile’s walk from the farmhouse, and dusk was already beginning to fall by the time she arrived at the edges.
Wolfie nosed around in front of her as they walked through the shadows of the huge trees. She had never realised that the wood was so dense and only hoped that Wolfie would find the way back home. Darkness had almost descended and Cecily was ready to turn around when Wolfie barked suddenly and gambolled forwards. Knowing that this meant he’d picked up a scent – almost certainly of food – Cecily switched on the flashlight and followed him as he set off at full pelt.
‘I do hope you know where you’re going, Wolfie,’ she said as she did her best to keep up with him. But soon, even she could smell the enticing aroma of meat cooking over a fire, and a few seconds later, the two of them entered a small clearing.
When Cecily shone the flashlight on the small, circular shelter, concocted of smoothly packed mud draped with animal skins, she felt as if she was in a surreal African version of Hansel and Gretel. In front of the shelter was a haunch of meat roasting on a spit hanging over a fire pit.
‘Takwena, Cecily.’ Nygasi appeared in front of her warily.
‘Hello, Nygasi. I . . . I