Chapter 13

I felt dirty slipping the drink out of the fridge.

Not physically dirty- but a filth that seemed to settle in my stomach and coat my insides. Not the kind of dirt you could wash off in a shower- this was different. My hands were shaking so hard that I almost put it back. But I didn’t. I slipped it into my pocket and told myself that it was totally okay. It would be okay to have a drink later- that’s what people did.

I stood up and caught sight of my reflection in the mirror. I almost didn’t recognize the person staring back at me. I knew it was me, but I looked different somehow. It was as if the mirror wasn’t reflecting back my physical appearance, but rather reflecting back the feelings that were churning inside me. I usually liked the way I looked; blonde, slim, pretty face, large brown eyes. But my features seemed tainted somehow.

I turned away from the mirror quickly, and survey the room, unsure of where or what to begin with. I knew how to sweep, so I grabbed a broom and started pushing it up and down the floor, but the dirt just seemd to be smearing, rather than going away. Clearly I was doing this incorectly.

People obviously have different talents. We need people who can scrub things, like basins and toilets. We need people who can cook too- so people like me can eat. But I’m just not one of those people---

“Get out! Get out!” Mary was screaming and waving her broom, which I thought was highly unnecessary. “Three hours, three hours and you’ve managed to make everything worse.”

“Like I said, I’m not good at cleaning,”

“No, you seem good at destruction,”

Yes it was true that I’d had a little trouble with the bottle of tile cleaner, it was also true that the spongy window cleaner thing had also given me a spot of bother when it had snapped off, and as for that polish stuff how the hell was I supposed to know it was for wood only?

“Whatever, this is totally lame anyway,” I ripped off the cleaning bib that I’d been forced to wear like a little slave drone and chucked it on the floor. I marched out of the room feeling furious. I had tried today and this was the thanks I got. People should be applauding me for the effort that I'd put in.

My body was shaking I was so angry. I hated it here and I needed to escape. There was no way I was going to spend another 27 days here and be treated like this. I needed to do something, anything. I needed to shop or go clubbing or go for a fast drive… Something, anything please.

And then, as if God himself was providing me with the answers on a silver platter, they came walking through the door.

Young couple.

Stylish.

Designer bag.

Shopping bags.

Happy looking.

I rushed up to them; I had to know where they’d just come from. They had that post shopping glow and that inner sparkle that comes from luxury spa treatments and relaxation.

“Hey, I’m Zara.” I was in front of them in seconds.

“Hi” The divinely chic woman spoke with a French accent… even more promising.

“Are you checking in?” I asked them.

“Yes, yes.” They nodded there perfect little heads at me.

“Where have you just come from? Did you get those there-“ I indicated the shopping bags with an eager pointed finger.

“Qui. We were at the Lost City. Very beautiful there. Lovely shopping. Spa was gorgeous. It was our honeymoon it was excellent.”

All those wonderful adjectives where making me tingle from head to toe.

“The Lost City huh?” It sounded like heaven and I wanted to know more about it

“Where is this Lost City?” Even the name, Lost City, sounded exotic and mysterious.

“Not far. Maybe a three and a half hour drive.” The woman looked at the man for confirmation and he nodded.

And then, blessed-joy, the woman dug in her Chloe bag and pulled out a brochure.

“Here.” She said handing it over to me.

My eyes lit up immediately when I saw it.

“It’s worth a visit,” She added, which almost made me drool.

I nodded. I agreed. It was worth a visit. In fact, this looked like Mecca.

I clutched onto the pamphlet like a mother would a new born baby and I ran to my room almost giddy with excitement. Once inside I threw myself on the bed and starting paging through it.

Mysterious, ancient looking palace.

A watery moat running around it.

Huge blue domes.

Opulent rooms.

Crystal chandeliers the size of small cars.

Swimming pools- crystal blue- lined with palm trees.

Sculptures of bronze animals.

African art and luxurious trimmings.

Spa with open windows that look out over jungle vista

Heated floatation pool.

Gorgeous shops selling African jewelry and bags and trinkets and bits and bobs that made me salivate

Water features with fountains that lit up at night.

And the rooms? Sumptuous. Opulent. Luxurious.

I checked my wallet again; I had enough money for a few nights there and then enough to buy a plane ticket out of this dump.

The excitement overwhelmed me and I let my thoughts drift….

I was lying by the pool tanning, I was sleeping in the four poster bed, I was being massaged in the spa, I was eating fine cuisine and buying divine little ethnic necklaces.

But the disappointment clubbed me over the head and snapped me back to cold, harsh reality. There was no way of getting there. No taxi service would drive here to the middle of nowhere, and I had no car.

Misery descended and engulfed. I'd been teased, my senses tickled momentarily and then it had all been taken away. I climbed into bed clutching the pamphlet to my chest dreaming of what it might be like to escape this prison.

A few hours later I was woken up by a beeping sound. My phone had lit up with a message from Clay. I was relieved to see that my messages had finally gotten through to him and that I was finally getting one back.

Message from Clayton!

OMG! Crisis. Go check out the London Tittle Tattle website and call me back IMMEDIATELY. It’s a complete disaster.

I shot out of bed with an impending sense of doom. Something was obviously very wrong. I logged onto the internet but nothing happened, the reception was to slow to bring up the webpage, so I ran from the room holding the phone in the air.

I was dusk, the sun was setting and it was getting cold. But I didn’t care. Phone in air I ran from spot to spot, but nothing. I surveyed my surroundings frantically, there had to be a place to get reception. I looked up; there were satellite dishes on the roof pointing in one direction. It looked like my only hope!

There was a ladder propped up against one of the walls as if someone had been up there recently. Just my luck. I slipped my cell phone into my bar, standard procedure when I needed both hands and made my way up the ladder. I was petrified of heights, but something told me I needed to be more petrified of what I would find on the website.

I finally made it to the top of the ladder and held the phone in the same direction as the satellite dishes were pointing. And bingo, the little round thingy started going around again.

It still took about three minutes for the page to load and another minute for the video to appear. And when I realized what it was, I almost fell off the ladder.

The video started playing. It was of me and it was from this morning when I was trying to get the spider webs off. I screamed and jumped like a mad person. I pulled at my hair and grabbed my face. It almost looked like I was having some kind of seizure or dramatic mental breakdown. But what was worse, was the article underneath.

Has Zara Bennett finally lost it?

It’s happened to Lindsey and Britney, but the latest celeb that seems to be suffering from a psychotic breakdown is Zara Bennett as this video clearly shows. Sent in by a source who filmed this in Africa. The video clearly shows a deranged Zara losing it completely. It also shows Zara with half a face of make-up on and wild looking hair- very unlike the Zara we know.

What Zara is doing in Africa though? We can only speculate. But we have to wonder, has Zara finally gone mad?

My heart jumped into my throat. This was so unfair. They hadn’t mentioned the fact that I was being attacked by giant spider webs. This video had been completely taken out of context.

I was mortified. Everything else that had ever been said about me was tame in comparison to this, in fact, all the other stuff only added to my status. But this, this took away from it. It made me look like a poor mad person that had escaped from an asylum. I knew I was going to be the laughing stock of the London scene, not to mention the public as a whole. Something like this could damage me and my reputation.

Message to Clayton:

WTF? I’m so embarrassed. I can’t believe this.

Message from Clayton:

Do you know who sent it in?

Message to Clayton:

Yes!!!! A British couple who were on the game drive.

Message from Clayton:

It’s gone viral. Everyone is talking about it Zee. I’ve been fielding phone calls all day.

Message to Clayton:

What must I do?

Message from Clayton:

Go and make them sorry they did Babe!

Yes, that was exactly what I was going to do.

I climbed down the ladder and ran in the direction of the lodge. I was barefoot and running over rocky, thorny ground but the adrenalin that was pumping through my veins counteracted the pain.

When I got there I could see that all the guests where seated and eating dinner. I surveyed the room, and there they were. Having a romantic candle lit dinner as if nothing was wrong. It made my blood boil. I stormed over to them, they were all I could see; they were all that mattered right now. As far as my brain was concerned, no one else existed right now other than them and me.

“HOW DARE YOU!” I screamed at them. “How fucking dare you?”

They stopped eating and looked up at me. I could see they knew exactly what I was talking about.

“Have you seen what they’ve written about me?” I shoved my phone into their faces.

The woman snickered, which made me even more furious.

“How could you? Do you know what the fuck you’ve done?”

“Hey, it’s all your doing. You are the one in the video, not me.”

I was blinded by red hot searing rage.

Then the man looked at me with what can only be described as hatred, “I think you’ve finally got what you deserve Miss Bennett.”

I heard Riaan screaming from behind me,

“Zara, what are you doing?” His hands were on my shoulders pulling me backwards, but I broke free.

“They took a video of me. They sent it to the tabloids, they…they…. “

But before I could finish my sentence, I burst into tears.

My shoulders shook as the tears started streaming down my face. I pointed my finger at them again; desperate to say something accusatory that would hurt them as much as they had just hurt me. But instead one of them pulled out their phone again. This time I grabbed it away and threw it against the wall, it smashed into little pieces.

They guy jumped up and looked like he was about to grab me, “You bitch!’

“Hey.” Riaan stepped forward, “There’s no need for this.”

“Yes there is.” He said almost frothing at the mouth, “Do you know who she is? What kind of person she is? She is selfish, spoilt and doesn’t give a shit, She thinks she can do exactly what she likes and get away with it.  She thinks she’s above everybody and----“

I couldn’t listen to another word so I turned and ran. Everyone was staring at me in horror. Dorcus and Patience had emerged from their pizza oven and were head shaking. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my aunt start walking towards me at speed, but I wasn’t in the mood for her shit either. No doubt she would say something about me being some grand disappointment to my mother again.

I ran as fast as I could back to the room fully aware that Riaan was in hot pursuit.

“Zara, Zara.”

“Go away” I screamed as loudly as I could.

“Stop. I want to talk to you.”

But I knew he didn’t want to talk, he wanted to lambast me. I reached the room only a few seconds before he did and jumped for a chair- I’d seen it in movies before, when the heroine is trying to escape the killer, she props a chair up against the door handle.

It worked.

“Zara. Open the door,”

“No!” I climbed back into bed and threw the covers over my head and sobbed. Every emotion that I had felt over the last few days came flooding back to me and combined into something that was so painful I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

I closed my eyes and concentrated hard on blocking out Riaan’s voice. At some stage I could hear my aunt, I put my fingers in my ears.

And then it went silent.

My hand touched a piece of paper under the bed sheets and I knew exactly what it was.

It was my saving grace.

And that’s when I decided I was going to go there tonight. I was going to leave this place come hell or high water and I was going to go to the Lost City.