Chapter 12

 

Asha was limping by the time Zach and I got back from our walk one evening. She made it home and plonked herself down in front of the steps, licking at her front paw.

I picked up her paw and looked, examining it closely as Zach peered over my shoulder. ‘I can see a thorn stuck in her pad. It looks quite deep. I don’t want to pull it out in case it snaps off.’ Our quarters were in darkness, so I knew that Dad probably wasn’t home, but I called out to him anyway.

No reply.

Zach unclipped the radio from his belt and called him. About five minutes later, he appeared in the Land Rover. Dad jumped out and grabbed his vet bag.

‘How is she?’ He looked down at Asha busy licking and trying to gnaw on the thorn with her teeth.

‘She’s OK, but it must be hurting her,’ I said.

Dad bent down in front of her as I sat next to her and pulled her head away, resting it in my lap. He picked up her paw, studied it, then reached into his bag for a pair of long tweezers. Holding her paw tight, he expertly pulled the thorn straight out and held it up for us to see.

‘All finished.’ Dad smiled. ‘Her pad might be a little tender for a while, but no harm done. These thorns are a hazard for the animals. If they get stuck in they can become infected.’

Asha pulled her head away from me and went back to licking her paw.

‘Are you keeping her in the enclosure tonight?’ Dad asked me.

I looked uncertainly between him and Zach. Although she now spent longer in there during the daytime, I’d been putting off leaving her in there at night. She was getting far too big to sleep on my bed, and often wanted to wrestle me in the middle of the night, but still, the thought of leaving her alone at night worried me.

‘Well, if she’s got a sore paw, maybe it’s not such a good idea,’ I said.

‘She’s almost six months old. You’ve got to do it sooner or later,’ Zach said.

I gnawed on my bottom lip. ‘What if her wound gets infected, or she misses me too much or—’

‘She needs to get used to it. It’s not like she would be sleeping on a bed in the wild,’ Dad said. ‘Plus, she snores.’ He grinned.

‘She does not!’ I covered her ears so she couldn’t hear them talking about her.

Zach agreed with Dad. ‘She needs to start tonight.’

I looked at Asha, feeling my heart sink. I should’ve been glad that she’d made it this far, but the thought of us being separated broke my heart. I didn’t even want to think about what would happen in the future when she was released back into the wild. How would I get through the day without her?

I felt the weight of their gazes on me. ‘You’re ganging up on me,’ I moaned.

They looked at each other and shrugged.

‘No one said this was going to be easy.’ Dad gave me a sympathetic smile.

‘Well, what if I sleep out here with her tonight? You know, just to get her used to being in the enclosure at night?’

Dad and Zach glanced at each other.

‘At least that will break her in gently.’ I raised hopeful eyebrows in their direction.

‘You’ll get bitten to death out here by mosquitoes.’ Dad shook his head softly.

Zach thought about it for a while. ‘I guess it couldn’t hurt. For one night only, though.’

I leaped up, punching the air. ‘Yes!’

‘Your Dad’s right, though. You’re going to need a mossie net to put over you or you’ll be suffering tomorrow.’ Zach stroked his chin. ‘Look, if you really want to do this, I’ll go and get some camping supplies from the lodge that we use for overnight walking safaris, and I’ll bring back a couple of camping mattresses and sleeping bags. We can both sleep out under the stars.’

‘Great,’ I said.

Zach returned an hour later with some bedding, mossie nets, and a cool box. I led Asha into the enclosure and brought in her evening meal of a small antelope carcass, which she gnawed on hungrily.

We arranged the camping mats down on the ground next to each other in the middle of her enclosure.

Nodding to the cool box, I said, ‘What’s in there?’

‘Cold beer.’ He opened the lid and twisted off the cap of one bottle, handing it to me before taking one for himself. ‘There’s nothing quite like camping out here at night, watching the stars, with a cold beer. It doesn’t get any better than this.’ Zach stared at the sky and gave a satisfied sigh and took a swig of beer.

I turned my face up to the stars. There was no light pollution here so thousands of bright sparks lit up the sky, twinkling like diamonds. I remembered the luminous stars Mum had put on my ceiling at home and felt a pang of sadness that made me shiver. Had she done this with Dad when they lived out here? Enjoyed a cold beer as they stargazed up into the Kenyan night? Was her spirit closer to me here than in England?

‘Are you cold?’ Zach asked.

I shook my head, willing the lump in my throat to disappear.

‘You’re shivering. It can get cold out here at night.’ He slipped an arm around me and rubbed my back.

The nerve endings in my body came alive, firing pulses in all directions. I took a small sip of beer, swirling the bitter liquid in my mouth before swallowing, so I wouldn’t choke on it through either sadness or the shock of Zach’s touch.

‘It’s nice beer,’ I said.

‘Is that the first time you’ve had beer?’

‘I’ve had the odd swig of Dad’s, but that’s about it. What, are you going to tell me that you learned to drink beer at six years old, too?’

He tilted his head. ‘No, not six. Seven, maybe.’

By the time Asha finished sucking the bones clean we were on our second bottle, and a relaxed feeling had settled in the pit of my stomach. Asha sat next to us and rested her head on her front paws, looking out through the iron bars of the enclosure into the black night at something I couldn’t see.

‘Where did the name Jazz come from?’ Zach stopped rubbing my back and leaned on one arm, stretching out his long, toned legs.

‘Mum absolutely loved jazz music. She had this massive collection of old vinyl records.’ I smiled at the memory of her swaying her hips to the music as she cooked us dinner, or tapped her feet when she was curled up on the sofa reading a book. ‘She kept trying to convert me, but I’m a pop girl. What about the name Zach?’

‘Mum and Dad couldn’t decide whether to call me something European or a Swahili name. Luckily the European name won, otherwise they’d have called me Kandoro.’

I laughed, then slapped a hand over my mouth. ‘That’s not so bad.’

‘It means sweet potato.’ He grinned.

‘Oh.’ I pulled a face at him.

His gaze swept over me for a while before he said, ‘What happened in the accident?’

He hadn’t asked me anything personal since that day at the lake when I’d stormed off, but suddenly I found myself actually wanting to tell him. Maybe it was the beer that made me more relaxed, or maybe it was that I was certain he wouldn’t laugh at me anymore. It wasn’t like I’d been able to hide my face from him in the last four months, and most of the time now, I didn’t even think about wearing a hat or trying to covering my face with my hair when I was with him. I felt like I could trust him with my thoughts.

I swallowed some beer for courage. ‘It was my fault.’ I looked down at Asha and stroked her.

‘How was it your fault?’

‘I was running late for school, and Mum had been trying to hurry me up. We got in the car and half way there I realised I’d forgotten a text book I needed for an English exam, so we had to rush back and get it. As we drove off the second time around, I was telling Mum to go faster, and she was so busy telling me to put my seatbelt on that she wasn’t paying attention to the road and drove through a red light.’ I took a deep breath and shivered, suddenly feeling cold again in the warm air. ‘A lorry ploughed into the driver’s side and pushed us into a tree. She was crushed.’ My voice cracked.

I felt his warm fingers slip around mine and he gave them a squeeze. ‘Jazz—’

I cut him off and carried on talking, forcing the words out before I could change my mind. I hadn’t spoken to anyone about what had happened, and now I had to get it all out of me. ‘If it hadn’t been for me being late and not wearing a seat belt, she’d still be alive.’ The stars blurred in my vision as my eyes watered. ‘I ended up going through the windscreen and landing on the mangled up bonnet, and I woke up in the hospital with my face ripped to shreds. I spent a few weeks in hospital and months going to the doctor to get the scars checked regularly.’ I paused, remembering how I’d anticipated each appointment, imagining that the dressings would be uncovered and my face would be back to normal. The sense of loss, anger, and disappointment I felt when I realised they were still there in all their ugliness. ‘I missed months of school, too. I used to hang around with a small group of the popular girls, and I had a best friend called Josie, but she was emigrating to Australia at that time with her parents. The others phoned me at first to see how I was getting on, but I think they just didn’t know what to say to me. I mean, what do you say to someone who’s lost their mum and is now scarred for life? And then, when the dressings were finally removed for good and they saw the state of me, one by one, they couldn’t stand to be associated with me anymore. I mean, maybe some of it was my fault because I was so depressed. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, and I was really angry all the time, but when I went back to school, that’s when the teasing and name-calling started.’

I felt his hand squeeze mine tighter.

‘I went from being in the popular crowd to being in the outcast crowd.’

‘People think adults can be cruel, but kids are the worst,’ Zach said.

‘I know.’ I paused. ‘I couldn’t stand to look at myself after that. Not only was I horrifically scarred, but I just felt so guilty about Mum. And I miss her so much.’ I took a swig of beer to try and stop the tears from falling. ‘Even now, and it’s been nearly a year and a half. Does it ever get any easier?’

‘There’s no time limit on grief, but it does get easier.’

‘I still talk to her. Does that sound weird?’

‘Not at all.’

‘I used to have a recurring dream about Mum, but it’s strange; I stopped having it when I found Asha.’ I leaned over to Asha and kissed the top of her head. She looked up at me and yawned.

‘Asha’s an amazing animal. You should be really proud of what you’ve done so far.’

‘I haven’t done that much.’

‘I think you underestimate yourself.’ He paused, tilting his head, thinking. ‘You know…some people think scars are sexy. And I don’t think your scars are as bad as you think they are.’

I gave him a disbelieving frown. He was just trying to make me feel better, and it wouldn’t work.

‘There are some African tribes who purposely scar their bodies and faces,’ he went on.

I raised my eyebrows. ‘What? Why on earth would they do that?’

‘It’s dying out a bit now, but it began because the climate here meant they were too hot to wear clothes so they would use scarring to recognise different tribes. It’s also used to decorate and beautify the body. A bit like an ancient form of tattooing.’

Fathiya’s comments about me being a long lost African child suddenly clicked into place. She wasn’t being nasty, she’d just been making an observation.

‘Look at the singer Seal,’ he said. ‘He’s got facial scars, but I bet he’s got a lot of female fans who find him sexy. Probably a few male ones, too.’ He grinned as he reached out and wiped a tear away from my cheek with the back of his forefinger.

He looked deep into my eyes, and at that moment I understood what he’d said all those months ago, about not wanting to be anywhere else in the world other than here.

I felt like I’d finally come home.