The Hunters. Kat Gordon

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      ‘Do you think you’ll bleed to death?’

      ‘Don’t – you’re not funny.’

      Abdullah made his way back to us with something in between his thumb and forefinger. ‘This is for you,’ he said, as he reached the well.

      ‘What is it?’ Maud asked.

      ‘Safari ant.’ He showed us the ant, which was squirming in his grip. It was a deep cherry-red colour, and almost twice the size of his thumbnail, with long, pincer-like jaws protruding from either side of its head.

      ‘What are you going to do with it?’ Maud asked, biting her lip.

      ‘Maasai use them like this,’ Abdullah said. He brought the ant down to Maud’s cut, until the pincers were on either side of the wound then pressed them onto her skin. The ant went rigid, the pincers snapped together and Abdullah twisted the body off in a quick, clean movement. ‘Very strong,’ he said.

      We looked down – the head was still hanging off Maud’s leg, but the pincers had closed the gash like a makeshift suture.

      ‘How long does it last?’ I asked.

      ‘Until skin heals,’ he said.

      ‘Thank you, Abdullah,’ Maud said. She blushed as he helped her to her feet.

      It was April, almost three months after we’d moved in, when Sylvie arrived out of the blue. I was out on the lake with Maud when I saw her sitting on our jetty, legs outstretched in the sun. She raised a hand lazily and I jumped up, almost sending us head first into the water.

      ‘Who is it?’ Maud asked.

      ‘Sylvie.’

      ‘You must have good eyesight.’

      ‘Maybe it’s because I don’t strain them reading all the time,’ I said, beginning to row us back to shore.

      ‘I didn’t know you could read?’

      ‘Very funny.’ I caught sight of a monkey-sized figure scampering between Sylvie and the edge of the jetty. ‘Look – she’s brought your husband with her.’

      Sylvie waited until the boat had bumped gently against the jetty before standing up in one slow, supple movement.

      ‘Is it nice out there?’ she asked. ‘It looks so peaceful.’

      ‘Do you want me to row you out?’

      ‘Another time.’ She was looking straight at me, and I passed a hand over my face, feeling the roughness of new hair growing around my mouth and below my ears. I was glad my voice had finally settled.

      ‘I came to invite you to see our new house,’ she said. ‘Well – our land, anyway. The house isn’t completely built yet.’

      I moored the boat and jumped up onto the landing stage. ‘Is it nearly done?’

      ‘So the builder promises us.’

      I stared at her perfect teeth and those soft-looking lips. She stared back, smiling.

      ‘Theo,’ Maud called from the boat. ‘You know I need help.’

      Sylvie laughed. Maud held out her hands and I lifted her onto the jetty. Roderigo jumped into Sylvie’s arms and she kissed his head. ‘Shall we find your mother?’ she asked us.

      ‘Lady Joan came to see her for lunch,’ Maud said. ‘They’re out on the porch now.’

      ‘The Governor’s wife?’ Sylvie peered back at the house. ‘That’s lucky – I haven’t met her yet.’

      I wondered if I should warn her about Lady Joan’s opinion of the Happy Valley set, but she’d already started walking, Maud trotting next to her. I hurried to join them.

      When we reached the house a greyhound was shivering in the sunlight at the bottom of the stairs, and Abdullah was standing nearby, like a protective parent.

      ‘Thank you for looking after Fairyfeet,’ Sylvie said softly to him. She crouched down and stroked the dog’s ears, shushing it when it whimpered. ‘She’s so scared all the time – Nico’s almost given up on her.’

      My mother came down the steps. ‘Good afternoon, Countess de Croÿ.’

      Sylvie straightened up again. ‘Oh – call me Sylvie, please.’ She looked at Lady Joan, who was still sitting on the porch. ‘It’s nice to –’

      Lady Joan cut her off with a wave of her hand. ‘No introductions necessary. Are you still with the Hamiltons?’

      ‘We’ve bought our own place actually – I’m here to invite the Millers to tea.’

      ‘How kind of you,’ my mother said. She didn’t move, and I realised she hadn’t offered Sylvie a drink, or invited her inside, or even shaken her hand. Behind me, I could sense Maud fidgeting, and Fairyfeet still whimpered softly, but otherwise a silence had descended. My mother crossed her arms in front of her chest; Lady Joan raised an eyebrow.

      I looked at Sylvie. She’d turned pale. It made her seem much younger, somehow, and helpless, and I felt a wave of anger on her behalf.

      ‘Would you like a glass of wine?’ I asked.

      My mother caught my eye and shook her head, subtly. I hurried on. ‘We don’t have champagne. I don’t know if Abdullah knows how to make whisky sours – you like those, don’t you?’

      ‘You remember.’ Sylvie smiled at me, and the colour came back into her cheeks. She looked as if she was about to refuse, then Roderigo broke the ice, jumping out of her arms and onto Maud’s shoulder.

      ‘He knows me,’ Maud said excitedly.

      Sylvie laughed. ‘He always chooses the prettiest person to sit on.’

      ‘Actually,’ I said. ‘We were going to ask your permission for Roderigo’s hand in marriage. Maud’s game.’

      ‘Theo,’ my mother said, frowning.

      ‘Maud shouldn’t be thinking about marriage yet,’ Sylvie said. ‘Not for a long time.’ She tucked a strand of hair behind Maud’s ear. ‘You’ve got much more to offer the world, haven’t you, darling?’

      There was another pause. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my mother draw herself up as if she had something important to say.

      ‘Sylvie,’ she said. ‘Won’t you join us on the veranda? What would you like to drink?’

      Sylvie drove with one hand on the wheel and the other in her lap. She was constantly looking over her shoulder to talk to Maud and drifting across the road, or skidding as we turned corners. Freddie had driven too fast, but at least he’d seemed in control.

      Cedar trees whisked past in a dark blur, and golden stalks of corn bowed their prickly heads СКАЧАТЬ