The Perils of Skinny-Dipping (20 page)

By the time Abbey arrived at work, the office was already very busy. Boitachello had organised the volunteers that had arrived, and Abbey was impressed with her management skills. Boitachello was proving herself to be an asset in more ways than one.

It was mid morning when Abbey received a phone call from the estate agents in Manchester to confirm they had a definite offer from a cash buyer for her house. The agent was keen to complete the deal and Abbey knew she would have to return home to sort out the house contents, and sign all the necessary paperwork.

‘
What date are we looking at?’ enquired Abbey to the agent.

‘
Well, this guy is very keen and we really don’t want to lose him,’ the estate agent explained with an urgent tone. ‘The tenant has moved out, the survey has been done and he’s already got his end of the conveyancing underway. We can sort out your legal obligations, but you need to empty the house and have it ready for a completion date in the next seven days!’

Abbey sat and thought out her options. She could let AVP know she would be away for approximately ten days, and was sure that Boitachello would be more than capable of managing the office in that time. On the other hand, Darren was scheduled to be away for at least another week and that would mean leaving before he returned. That was something Abbey did not want to do, given the way in which he had left, and also there was no way of getting in touch with him to let him know what was happening.

She decided to take a leisurely lunch and think it over. She walked through the town to the Savuti Safari Lodge and sat in the pool bar. The hotel was quiet and the pool empty. Abbey relaxed into a chair and scanned the menu, when a familiar-looking gentleman approached her.

‘
Hello Mma, how are you?’

‘
Hello Rra, I’m fine. And you?’ Abbey stood and held out her hand, touching the opposite arm at the elbow, which was customary when greeting someone.

‘
Fine, just fine. I am Mr Kobe. Do you remember me? I spoke to you and your friend Phil at the Crossroads, when the delivery truck had broken down.’

Abbey nodded. ‘Yes, of course I do.’

‘
I have just been promoted to the post of manager of the hotel,’ he continued. ‘I know your husband, Mr Scott, and I just wanted to say thank you, and tell you that you are most welcome here anytime.’

Abbey was not sure why she needed to be thanked, but smiled and invited Mr Kobe to join her.

‘
I am sorry to hear of the very bad things that happened to you, but I think it has all worked out well. Mr Permelo has gone now and Mr Scott gave me a reference when the job came up here. I am very grateful.’

‘
I am very pleased for you Rra, and thank you for your concern,’ replied Abbey, now understanding the situation completely.

‘
I am originally from Ramotswe,’ said Mr Kobe settling himself into his chair. ‘When I was younger, I stayed with my uncle and went to school in Gaborone at Ledumang Senior Secondary School. I left when I was nineteen and went to the University of Botswana to complete a Business Management degree. I have been here in Kasane for nearly ten years now and this job has been very good for me. I have been able to help my family, who rely on me for money. The farm has had many problems and they have looked on me to help out.’

They chatted about the work of the AVP and how Botswana’s growing prosperity and political stability was helping to create opportunities for its people, mainly by providing schools and colleges even in the remotest parts of the country. Health was still a big problem with the continuing death toll from AIDS, and a high percentage of the population being HIV. However, the government’s pledge to invest money into anti-viral drugs and healthcare was a step forward, but they both agreed it had to be recognised as a long-term strategy, not a short-term solution.

It was also very obvious to Abbey that Darren had established himself in the town as a reliable businessman in a relatively short space of time, and was obviously well thought of. She felt a sense of pride that she was connected to him.

‘
Tell me, Mr Kobe,’ enquired Abbey, ‘why did Mr Permelo leave?’

Mr Kobe looked surprised. ‘Did Mr Scott not tell you?’

‘
Not really,’ replied Abbey, ‘I don’t think he wanted to worry me. He just said that the fraud squad had been to see Mr Permelo and he had decided to move back to South Africa for a while.’

Mr Kobe laughed. ‘Ah, I think it will be a very long, while Mrs Scott. Mr Permelo was involved in trading stolen goods through the hotel here, as well as money laundering. Mr Scott knew all about this and, when he found out what was happening to you, he got written statements from many of us here at the hotel about what we had seen and heard. He faxed them down to the police in Francistown and told us not to worry about Mr Permelo, as now the police finally had some proof about what he had been doing. You know, everyone was frightened of Mr Permelo and he didn’t think anyone would ever give evidence against him.’

‘
Did they arrest Mr Permelo when they came here?’

‘
No, someone tipped him off, and he ran away, but the fraud squad caught him on the Francistown Road. He was arrested and taken to Gaborone for questioning. As far as I know he is in Gaborone Prison now and will stay there until his court date early next year.’

Abbey smiled with relief. She had dreaded bumping into him in the town, especially if she was on her own.

‘
Can I ask you another question?’ asked Abbey.

Mr Kobe nodded.

‘
You know Mr Koma, who owns the Limpopo Wood Mill? Is he really a witch doctor?’

Mr Kobe smiled and took her hand. ‘No Abbey. Mr Koma is a successful businessman who sometimes uses his position in the town to get his own way. He and Mr Permelo were gambling and drinking partners. They would help each other out of tricky situations. Mr Koma will not cause you anymore trouble. Not now Mr Permelo is in prison. He will not want to risk his name being mentioned in a bad way by anyone. He has a very good business here and has too much to lose.’

Abbey thanked Mr Kobe for his kind hospitality and returned to the office with a plan of action for the next ten days. She booked her flights for the following day and left a long list of jobs for Boitachello, who was overwhelmed with joy when Abbey announced she had to go back home for a week or so and was leaving her in charge. She bowed her head and promised that she would take excellent care of everything until Abbey returned. Abbey made a mental note to bring both her and Alfred presents on her return.

She walked back to the bungalow and wrote a note to Darren, placing it on the kitchen table, explaining where she had gone and what she had to do. She finished the note with ‘I love you’, before packing her bag ready for the journey.

Chapter Twenty-One

Abbey landed at Manchester Airport on a chilly, November morning. She took a taxi the short distance to her parents’ house, which was about two miles south from the airport. This part of south Manchester was on the border with Cheshire and enjoyed a reputation for being an exclusive place to live. The large houses were set back from the road, behind red brick walls, hawthorn hedges and wrought-iron electric gates. Chestnut trees lined the roads leading into the small village centre, full of trendy wine bars and bistros. Everything looked exactly the same and, although nothing had changed, it felt strange, almost uncomfortable, to be back.

Abbey was feeling slightly apprehensive about seeing her parents again. She had left for Botswana after a particularly heated row with her mother and, apart from a brief phone call announcing that she would be visiting for a few weeks, she had had no other communication with either of them in months. As far as she could remember, she had only had three conversations with her mother since she left over a year ago, and one of those was to tell her she had got married.

‘
Oh, that’s nice,’ her mother had said, not indicating any joy or disapproval. ‘I’ll tell your father when he gets in.’ That had been the only response and Abbey had not offered any more information.

She had never had a close relationship with either of her parents, even though she was an only child, and Abbey felt that in her mother’s eyes she was still a little girl who had never grown up. She could still tell Abbey what to do and how to do it and she was always right. She viewed Abbey’s mistakes, her broken marriage especially, as proof that she could not get things right in her life and that she, as her mother, simply knew best.

She constantly reminded Abbey of what she believed to be her failings, forcing her to relive sometimes painful events over and over again. This is what had sparked the row the day before she was due to leave the country. Abbey had called round to her parents’ house with some houseplants for them to look after while she was away. She was busily watering them when her mother came into the kitchen.

‘
I wonder what William would think of this hair-brain plan of yours?’ she said, as she tidied away some dishes.

‘
I take it you’re talking about William, my ex-husband of now, let me see, thirteen years ago?’ sighed Abbey. ‘Who I haven’t spoken to since the day we signed the divorce papers.’

Her mother continued to bustle about. ‘Well, Abbey, you’ve never behaved in a responsible way. Your father and I have had a lot to put up with, especially when you were a teenager. I remember you going out and getting drunk and...’

Abbey spun around on her heels. ‘How can you throw that at me now?’ she cried indignantly. ‘For your information, I was pretty tame if I remember rightly. I never did drugs, and I didn’t make you grandparents. So I had too much to drink and threw up on the bathroom floor. So bloody what? That isn’t so unusual, you know, after a school prom!’

‘
And, I remember you going out with that awful boy from…’ continued her mother, unperturbed by Abbey’s sudden outburst.

‘
MOTHER!’ Abbey shouted in desperation. ‘Enough is enough. My teenage years are well behind me now. Do we have to go over the same ground, time and time again?’

Her mother stood in the doorway, preparing to leave the room.

‘
Look,’ said Abbey, ‘I realise I’ve made mistakes. OK, I hold my hands up. But I also realise that these mistakes, as you regularly call them, have helped to make me into the person I am now. Isn’t that what life is all about?’ she paused, twisting strands of her hair between her fingers. ‘Do you not like the person I am now?’

She turned around, unable to look directly at her mother anymore and continued to water the plants, hoping and praying that she would get a favourable reply to her last question. She heard the door slam as her mother left the room, unwilling to discuss the matter any further. Abbey left by the back door, tears streaming down her cheeks, knowing that that would be the last conversation she would have with either of them before she left for the airport the next morning.

As she remembered that parting row, it constantly amazed her that she could deal with the most awkward people at work, in a professional manner, and yet two minutes in her mother’s company and she immediately reverted into a vulnerable young child. She knew her mother didn’t have a high opinion of her, even though she had a successful job and was on the property ladder. God knows what she would think of her now!

The taxi stopped outside 32 Cherrytree Lane. Abbey got out into the wet, chilly air and looked around her. It was all as she remembered it. She fumbled for the front door key in her pocket, turned the lock and walked apprehensively into the hall. Her mother appeared at the kitchen door.

‘
Hi,’ said Abbey, as brightly as she could.

Her mother nodded. ‘I’ve changed your bed and there’s a clean towel hanging up in the bathroom.’

‘
Right then, thanks,’ replied Abbey, glad of the excuse to run up the stairs, closely followed by Boris, the cocker spaniel, who was obviously expecting a much bigger greeting at seeing her again than her mother had done.

When her father returned from the newsagents, they sat down to lunch. Fortunately, and much to Abbey’s relief, her mother did not ask any awkward questions about why she was selling her house, or about Darren. In fact, her mother didn’t ask any questions at all.
Great
, thought Abbey,
she has a new son-in-law and she doesn’t even want to see what he looks like or know how he is!

‘
Nasty weather,’ exclaimed her father as he ate his ham salad.

This was the first exchange she had had with him since he walked through the door. Abbey nodded at him, wishing the water in her glass would miraculously turn into red wine.

As soon as the plates were cleared off the table, she text Phil to let him know she was back in the UK and would meet him the following day. After a quick change of clothes, she picked up her coat and the dog lead and headed to the local park with Boris.

The park was almost deserted, which wasn’t surprising given the continuous drizzle. She found a bench under an oak tree and sat down. Boris scampered around the trees investigating every smell with his finely-tuned nose.

Abbey was feeling the cold and drew her knees up onto the bench and hugged them. She had played in this park regularly as a child. As she looked upon the familiar surroundings of her childhood, she realised that she had not been homesick at all in the last sixteen months. She also realised that she felt like a very different person to the one that had left that October morning, with a packed suitcase full of what she had considered ‘life’s little essentials’. Her mind wandered back to Kasane and whether Darren had been home yet and read her letter. She doubted it, as she was sure he would have rang or text her by now, or at least that is what she hoped.