The Quenton Park housekeeper had repared her a bedroom in the flat in
the lanes behind York Minster.
As Nicholas carried her bags up the stairs ripsaw snoring came from
behind the door of the bedroom on the second landing, and she looked at
Nicholas enquiringly.
"Sapper Webb," he told her. "Latest addition to the team. Our own
engineer. You will meet him tomorrow, and I think you will like him. He
is a fisherman."
"What's that got to do with me liking him?"
"All the best people are fishermen."
"Present company excluded," she laughed. "Are you staying at Quenton
Park?"
"Giving the house a wide berth, for the time being." He shook his head.
"Don't want it bruited about that I amback in England. There are some
fellows from Lloyd's that I would rather not speak to at the moment. I
will be in the small bedroom on the top floor. Call if you need me."
When she was alone she looked around the tiny chintzy room with its own
doll's house bathroom, and the double bed that took up most of the floor
area. She remembered his remark about calling if she needed him, and she
looked up at the ceiling just as she heard him drop one of his shoes on
the floor.
"Don't tempt me," she whispered. The smell of him lingered in her
nostrils, and she remembered the feel of his lean hard body, moist with
sweat, pressed against hers as he had carried her up out of the Abbay
gorge. Hunger and eed were two words she had not thought of for many
years. They were starting to loom too large in her existence.
"Enough of that, my girl," she chided herself, and went to run a bath.
Nicholas pounded on her door the next morning on his way downstairs.
"Come along, Royan. Life is real. Life is urgent."
It was still pitch dark outside, and she groaned softly and asked, "What
time is it?" But he was gone, and faintly she could hear him whistling
"The Big Rock Candy Mountain'somewhere downstairs.
She checked her watch and groaned again. "Whistling at six-thirty, after
what he and Mummy did to the Laphroaig last night. I don't believe it.
The man is truly a monster."
Twenty minutes later she found him in a dark blue fisherman's sweater
and jeans and a butcher's apron, working in the kitchen.
"Slice toast for three, there's a love." He gestured towards the brown
loaf that lay beside the electric toaster.
"Omelettes coming up'in five minutes."
She looked at the other man in the room. He was middle-aged, with wide
shoulders and sleeves rolled up high around muscular biceps, and he was
as bald as a cannonball.
"Hello," she said, "I am Royan Al Sirnma."
"Sorry." Nicholas waved the egg-whisk. "This is Danny Daniel Webb, known
as Sapper to his friends."
Danny stood up with a cup of coffee in his big competent-looking fist.
"Pleased to meet you, Miss Al Simma. May I pour you a cup of coffee?"
The top of his head was'freckled, and she noticed how blue his eyes
were.
"Dr Al Simma,'Nicholas corrected him.
"But please call me Royan," she cut in quickly, "and yes, I' love a
cup."
There was no mention of Ethiopia or Taita's game during breakfast, and
Royan ate her omelette and listened respectfully to a passionate
dissertation on how to catch sail fish on a fly rod from Sapper, while
Nicholas heckled him mercilessly, calling into question almost every
statement he made. Very obviously they had a good relationship, and she
supposed she would become accustomed to all the angling jargon.
As soon as breakfast was over, Nicholas stood up with the coffee pot in
one hand. "Bring your mugs, and follow me., He led Royan to the front
sitting room. "I have a surprise for you. My people up at the museum
worked round the clock to get it ready for you."
He threw open the door of the sitting room, with an imitation of a
trumpet flourish, "Tarantara!'
On the centre table stood a fully mounted model of the striped dik-dik,
crowned with the pricked horns and clad in the skin that Nicholas had
smuggled back from Africa. It was so realistic that for a moment she
expected it to leap off the table and dash away as she walked towards
it.
"Oh, Nicky. It's beautifully done!" She circled it appraisingly. "The
artist has captured it exactly."
The model brought back to her vividly the heat and smell of the bush in
the gorge, and she felt a twinge of nostalgia and sadness for the
delicate, beautiful creature.
Its glass eyes were deceptively lifelike and bright, and the end of its
proboscis looked wet and gleaming as though it was about to wiggle it
and sniff the air.
"I think it's splendid. Glad you agree with me." He stroked the soft,
smooth hide. She felt this was not the moment to spoil his boyish
pleasure. "As soon as we have Ir sorted out Taita's puzzle, I intend
writing a paper on it for the Natural History Museum, the same lads that
called Great-grandpapa a liar. Restore the family honour." He laughed
and spread a dust-sheet over the model. Carefully he lifted it down from
the table and placed it safely in a corner of the room where it was out
of harm's way.
"That was the first surprise I had saved up for you. But now for the big
one." He pointed to a sofa against one wall.
"Take a seat. I don't want you to be bowled over by this." She smiled at
his nonsense, but went obediently to the furthest end of the sofa afid
curled her legs under her as she settled there. Sapper Webb came to sit
awkwardly at the other end, obviously uncomfortable at being so close to
her.
"Let's talk about how we are going to get into the chasm on the Dandera
river," Nicholas suggested. "Sapper and I have talked about nothing else
the whole time that you have been away."
"That and catching fish, I'll warrant." She grinned at him, and he
looked guilty.
"Well, both subjects involve water. That is my justification." His
expression became serious. "You recall that we discussed the idea of
exploring the depths of Taita's pool with scuba gear, and I explained
the difficulties."
"I remember," she agreed. "You said the pressure into the underwater
opening was too great, and that we would have to find another method of
getting in there."
"Correct." Nicholas smiled mysteriously. "Well, Sapper here has already
earned the exorbitant fee that I have promised him - promised, I
emphasize, not yet paid. He has come up with the alternative method."
Now she too became serious and unfolded her legs.
She placed both feet on the floor and leaned forward attentively, with
her elbows on her knees and her chin cupped in her hands.
"It must have been all those brains of his that pushed out his hair. I
mean, it's very neat thinking. Although it was staring us both in the
face, neither you nor I thought of it."
Stop it, Nicky," she told him ominously, "you are doing it again."
"I am going to give you a clue." He ignored the warning and went on
teasing her blithely. "Sometimes the old ways are the best. That's the
'if you are so clever, how come you aren't famous?" she began, and then
broke off as the solution occurred to her.
"The old ways? You mean, the same way as Taita did it?