“Nasty,” said Eleanor with a shudder. “And how do you catch such a disease?”
“It varies. Through an open wound, from someone else who has it … in this case by eating contaminated meat.”
“And penicillin cures it?”
Jefferson nodded. “I’ll be driving over to see the boy again tomorrow.” He looked across to Natalie and smiled.
“You saved the boy’s life,” said Eleanor, addressing Natalie. “How do you know so much about disease?”
Natalie was helping herself to chops. “As I told Jonas, I was on a dig in Israel, with Ira Ben-Osman, two years ago. There was an outbreak among the local Palestinians. Three died but we managed to save another fifteen. They had all eaten contaminated meat.”
The business with Mgina and Mgina’s brother had been quite an episode. Natalie didn’t feel as though she had saved someone’s life, but the boy—when they had reached him—obviously didn’t have flu. He was vomiting blood and had severe abdominal pains and a fever. It was right that they had gone when they had. Mgina’s family had clearly been worried—their traditional herbal remedies were not working. Of course, the penicillin hadn’t produced any immediate effect, so the family had still been anxious when Jonas and Natalie had left. They had done their best to reassure Odnate’s parents but had not wholly succeeded. Hopefully, tomorrow would bring better news.
The lamb had reached Eleanor. She inspected it doubtfully. “How can you tell if meat is contaminated?”
“It’s not easy,” said Jonas. “Animals that have anthrax collapse, so they mustn’t be used for food, which is probably what happened in this case. If the spores are dense enough, you can see them with the naked eye—they are gray-white and resemble ground glass.”
Eleanor picked up the chop in her fingers and turned it over. “Hmmm. Did anyone else in the village contract the disease?”
“Not so far as I could see,” replied Jonas. “Odnate was the youngest at the feast, with the least resistance. If the animal they were eating was not badly infected, and well roasted … he was unlucky.”
Eleanor nodded. “So is the boy out of the woods?”
“Not necessarily. His family must be disciplined and give him the full course of antibiotics.”
“Is that going to leave us short? You know, in case we have an accident here?”
Jonas shook his head. “We’re fine, unless we have our own epidemic. But next time anyone goes to Nairobi, they should top up our supplies.”
Eleanor nodded again. “If I talk to Jack, I’ll mention it. I’m not sure when he’s planning to come. He’s on some political committee in Nairobi.”
She sat up and her gaze took in Natalie and Jonas. “Well, I’m glad you two could help. Anything that brings blacks and whites closer is important right now. I’m told there’s been more oath-taking up north in Nakura, where a thousand Kikuyu were gathered in the bush for a bloodletting ceremony. And it’s the third time in the past two months. A curfew has been imposed and two newspapers closed for publishing coded notices telling people where the oath-taking would take place. It’s going to be like this in the runup to the independence conference in London in February, I am afraid.”
There was a brief gloomy silence, until she suddenly turned in her seat. “Mutevu, what’s the matter? There’s something different about you tonight—I can’t put my finger on it?”
He held his massive frame erect but grinned sheepishly. “Some monkeys got into the camp, ma’am. They stole one of my boots—”
“That’s it!” cried Eleanor. “Of course! You’re not shuffling.” She peered round the edge of the table and inspected his footwear. “So your beloved Wellingtons have gone missing, eh? You’re reduced to plimsolls, I see.”
“Just one boot was taken, Miss Eleanor.”
“We can fix that, I’m sure. Don’t worry. I’ll have Jack buy some in Nairobi.” She smiled.
“Thank you, Miss Eleanor, but the old ones were a gift from Sir Philip Sisley. He signed them. Don’t bother Mr. Jack, he’s busy, I’m sure.”
And Mutevu was gone.
Eleanor smiled as he left the room. “I should have guessed the boots had sentimental value … because they don’t fit.” Her grin took in the whole table. “Now, where was I? Yes, well done, Natalie, that was quick thinking, about the anthrax, I mean. But if this episode looks like it has a happy ending, we can get back to—”
“Yes, yes, this paper on the knee joint needn’t be very long, isn’t that so?” interrupted Richard Sutton somewhat awkwardly. “And