Chapter 2

Two days ago….

The London Tittle-Tattle, June 27

Socialite stops traffic- Literally

It was just a normal Saturday night out for socialite Zara Bennett. She and fellow social climber Clayton Bradley hit Boujis night –club where a source says they spent thousands of Pounds on bottles of Moet and danced like football hooligans. At one stage, another onlooker reports, Zara and Clayton climbed onto the bar, where they sprayed fellow patrons with champagne. Another eye- witness claims that Zara got into a screaming match with another girl after she was allegedly caught hitting on the girl in questions boyfriend. (We wouldn’t put it past her, this is not the first time she’s landed in the gossip pages for making a move on someone else’s man!)

The ‘terrible twins’ as they are coming to be known around town, then left the club and climbed into her custom made pink Porsche where they sat in the parking lot drinking more champagne and laughing. One onlooker described them as two cackling witches, he went on to say “they looked like they were up to no good,”

Prophetic words indeed, because minutes later the clearly inebriated socialite caused a bumper bashing when she reversed into a stationary car before pulling off at high speed and driving straight into a street pole.  When it was clear she couldn’t move her car, the two climbed out and hailed a taxi where they sped off to their next social engagement. Her car had to be towed away later when it caused a bumper-to-bumper traffic jam in the busy intersection. Luckily no one was hurt, but one driver who was caught in the two-hour hold up had this to say, “She thinks she’s above everyone else and she can do as she pleases.”

Her father, Minister of the Conservative party Charles Bennett has not yet released a statement regarding his daughters behavior, but something like this can only look bad for him, especially with the upcoming elections just around the corner.

Zara’s antics have long captured the imaginations of the public and have dominated gossip magazines, but what was once a frivolous amusement, is now becoming much more serious and as another frustrated driver said, “She has gone too far this time!”

In a month she is scheduled to celebrate her 21st birthday at Boujis, it has been totted as the social event of the year- we wait with baited breath to see what antics shall ensue.

“What the—“ The angry sun streamed through the window slapping me through the face and temporarily blinding me. I had a throbbing headache and a hang over from hell; sun was the last thing I wanted so early in the morning.

I looked up, my eyes were still sticky with sleep and I saw him silhouetted against my window,

“Hello Charles, this is a surprise,” I’d long since stopped calling the absent man by the window dad. Especially since he never acted like one. Not like a real dad anyway- not the kind of dad that my friends at school had. I’d been so envious of their relationships with their fathers’, but I’d come to accept long ago, that Charles and I would just never be like that.

“Have you seen this?” Charles marched across my room and slapped a newspaper down on my bed. The sound of the crinkling paper rippled through my brain like a tidal wave.

I rubbed my eyes and picked it up, “Oooh, it’s about me.”

This certainly wasn’t the first time my name had been splashed across the pages of some or other paper or magazine.

I read it as fast as my pounding head would allow as my ‘father’ paced up and down my room so frantically I thought he might make permanent indentations in the wooden floors.

“So what do you have to say for yourself Zara?” He was employing the same tone that he’d used when scolding me as a small child.  But I wasn’t a child anymore.

“Well, I wish they hadn’t mentioned my 21st birthday, now every Tom Dick and Harry is going to arrive and want to get in.”

Charles swung around, I could see he was fuming, “Is that all you care about? Your party? Well I can tell you now there will be NO party!”

I jumped out of bed and instantly regretted it as my head protested with an agonizing thump, “You can’t do that! I’ve already sent out invites, arranged a DJ, a giant champagne fountain, rotating bar----“

“You’ll just have to cancel it!”

“I can’t cancel it. People are expecting the party of the decade.”

“Well they’ll just have to wait another ten years, because your party is not going to be that!”

“That’s completely unfair! Besides, since when do you even care about what I get up to? You’re so busy with your precious politics that you never pay any attention to what I do anyway.”

He stopped pacing and folded his arms in that all to familiar stern pose, “So is this what it’s all about, attention?”

He couldn’t know how much his words had just torn a giant strip off me, how they had struck a very painful cord deep inside. I tried to force the lump in my throat away. I wanted to tell him the truth. That YES, most of what I’d done my entire adult life was to get him to pay me attention. I’d dyed my hair pink, gotten a nose ring and even bunked school just so I could get him into the same room as me for five minutes, even if it was the principles office. Half the time I felt like a dog begging for scraps at his table, and when I was younger I would have taken any scrap he threw at me- but I was at the age now when I realised that the scraps never came. So there was no point in begging.

“No.” I said curtly. “I’m just living my life dad.”

“Well you can go live your life with your aunt in South Africa for a month- at least until the elections are over—“

“Is that all you care about. Your elections? ” His words cut me to the quick.

My so-called parent hesitated, I could see my reply had taken him aback, “No, um, of course not, I... I, it's simply not like that."

“If that's your way of trying to say you care about me too, it's not working." It was more of a question that a statement. I watched his face expectantly, hoping he might say it, but he didn't.

"Whatever Charles, you haven’t cared about me for 5 minutes since mom died, All you care about it your work…”

I grabbed my phone and bag and stormed out the room as indignantly as possible, I didn’t want him to see how deeply he’d affected me. How deeply his words had hurt, and made me feel like the little begging dog agian. The little girl that slipped offerings- like bright crayon drawings and letters- under his shut office door, in hopes that he would come out.

And two days later I was in Africa, being palmed off to my Aunt. Well, at least it was nice here. She owned a luxury game reserve; we’d stayed there a few times when I was very younger.

Mmmm, now that I thought about it, maybe this trip was exactly what I needed. A lovely little African Safari. A chance to recuperate and relax. Jacuzzi baths, glorious spa treatments and organic African mud wraps from the moment you wake up until you climb into bed at night. Sleeping in late in those gorgeous luxury rooms overlooking the river and drinking freshly squeezed fruit juice while sunning yourself on the deck. I would only eat African seeds and roots and shrubby what-nots to detox, God knows I was in desperate need of one, I still felt slightly hung-over from two days ago.

Now that I thought about it, this little vacation would also be an excellent way of letting the scandal back home cool down- currently I wasn’t the most popular person around. (Some people just don’t have a sense of humor I guess.) Perhaps the public needed a break from me, a bit of mystery is never a bad thing. No doubt my disappearance would cause endless speculation, the rumor mill would go into full swing and the gossipmongers would have an absolute field day with it; I’d booked into a celebrity rehab with an eating disorder, or maybe I’d gone to the far flung reaches of Nepal for an intensive Yoga retreat, or perhaps I was in Vegas painting the town fuchsia. And in a months time- just as they were all desperate for me- I would emerge like a butterfly from its cocoon. Rested, relaxed, detoxed, tanned and ready to go. Yes, perhaps this little holiday was exactly what I needed!

The trip back to the lodge was bumpy and hot and no matter how many times I tried to start a conversation with Riaan, it failed.

“So what’s there to do here at night? Any clubs?”  Silence

“So, what do you like to do for fun?” Silence

“And shops? Please tell me there’s a shopping center around here?” Silence

“Do you actually get cell phone reception here?” Silence.

“Do you talk?” Silence

Okay, hint taken. Clearly he wasn’t the talkative type. Luckily it wasn’t a long drive because boredom was setting in fast. We finally pulled up to the lodge and it was exactly how I remembered it. The entrance was a large imposing building with a high thatch roof that lead out onto an open plan lounge and dinning area that looked out over a watering hole and the rolling savannah below.

Standing there looking at the building I was struck by a strange feeling; in one way it was comforting, but in another way it unsettled me. I hadn’t thought about this place in years. But now that I was here, I started remembering how magical I had once thought it to be. I loved this place as a child.

One incident in particular was coming back to me in vivid detail. We’d been eating breakfast one morning when a troop of Vervet monkeys came down for a drink, we landed up watching them for over an hour as they played together in the trees and on the edge of the water. A brave one had even jumped onto our table and stolen the jam. That was one of my favorite family memories, my mother was still alive and I remember how we’d all laughed together as they chased each other around in a desperate frenzy for a taste of the sweet strawberry jam.

I quickly forced the memory aside as I surveyed the surroundings.  An African woman  in traditional dress was waiting behind a desk and smiling in our direction.

“Sawubona Sisi, unjani? Riaan was speaking in Zulu- I still recognized those distinctive sounds. My mother had spoken Zulu, she’d even taught me a few phrases, but this was the first time in thirteen years that I’d actually heard it spoken out loud- it felt like I’d just heard a ghost.

The woman smiled and replied to him, “Ngikhona, ngiyabonga. Wena unjani?”

Riaan nodded his head, “Good thanks. But I need to talk to you about the game drive today.” And very soon Riaan and the woman were engrossed in a deep conversation. I had no idea what they were saying anymore and found it downright rude that I was being completely ignored, especially when they both disappeared into the office. I certainly wasn’t just going to stand here like an idiot, luckily I remembered where the rooms were. Behind the reception, the various room keys hung on the wall each numbered and indicated by a sticker that read “occupied” or “unoccupied”. I grabbed one of the keys- room 4 and headed off.

When we were last here we’d stayed in what they called the tree lodge. The rooms were essentially luxury tree houses, built into branches and joined together by wooden walkways. The rooms were large and open plan and the best part was the small plunge pool on the deck. I wondered if the rooms still had the plunge pools, because if they did, that’s where I was going first. I headed in the direction of the rooms still dragging my bags behind me and unlocked number 4.

I walked in and a sign of relief washed over me, it was audible. Finally I was in civilization again. Chic, luxurious African designer furniture and art filled the room- tasteful and elegant. Comfortable and refined. I walked straight to the glass sliding doors that lead onto the deck, and there it was, a little pool of heaven. I peeled off my clothes and made a beeline for the bar fridge. Just as I’d hoped, a chilled bottle of Champagne. I popped it open and poured myself a flute before slipping into the cool water.

The pool’s location couldn’t be better, perched at the edge of a wooden deck that looked out over the African landscape, surrounded by the large gnarled branches of an ancient tree. (hopefully killer ant free) The cool water coated my body and instantly soothed the bites on my stomach. I stuck my head under to wash the sweat off my face and emerged. I rested my elbows on the edge of the pool and drank in the view. There was a small watering hole just below the deck and I watched as a bird with a long neck pecked at the waters surface.  I closed my eyes and took in the sounds; crickets, a loud birdcall that I didn’t recognize and in the distance I could hear a baboon calling.  I sipped my champagne again, letting the warm breeze caress me. Now this was Africa. This is what Africa should be like. No need for dry, dusty sand and scorching heat.

I was really starting to like the idea of my month long holiday when-

“Zara!” Riaan’s voice abruptly cut through my pleasant thoughts.

“Yes. What is it?” I downed the glass of champagne, I figured he would be easier to deal with if I felt more relaxed. He was uptight enough for the both of us.

And then without any kind of invite, he walked in. Strode in as if he owned the place and he had a right to be here- as if I was the trespasser.

“What are you doing here?” His tone was firm, as usual.

“What does it look like, I’m having a swim.”

“No, what are you doing in this room?” His tone was getting more and more snarky by the sentence.

“Checking in.”

“You’re not staying here, you’re staying in the staff village.”

I burst out laughing; at least he had a sense of humor. But when I looked at his face, which remained completely un moved, I suddenly got a feeling that perhaps he wasn’t joking after all. He quickly confirmed it.

“I’m not joking. You’re staying in the staff village.”

I bolt of panic seized me, “With the staff? In the village?”

“I believe that’s why they call it staff village.” He said sarcastically.

Suddenly I was fuming, this was my fathers doing no doubt. As if it wasn’t punishment enough sending me away, he was doing his utmost to ensure that I would have the worst time possible.

“Well, I’ll just go and pay for the room then! Pass me the gown.”

And that was the moment Riaan realized I was naked under the water – I could see it plastered across his face. He’d gone from sarcastic to sheepish in a matter of seconds as he made his way across the room walking sideways like a crab, trying to keep his back to me at all times. He continued the crab walk once he’d gotten the gown and passed it to me.

I slipped it on, it was so soft and luxurious, I was going to enjoy lying around in it all day long that’s for sure.

I was still wet and dripping as I marched down the walk way and back to the reception area, Riaan still trailing behind me.

“Sawubona Sisi”, I shot Riaan a pleased look, I bet he wasn’t expecting that to come out of my mouth.

“I’d like to pay for room 4 please, all of it upfront.”

“What’s your name?” She asked.

“Zara Bennett.”

She pressed some buttons on the computer, “Sorry, we don’t have anyone under that name booked in.”

“Well is the room available or not?”

“It is. How long are you staying?”

“A month.”

The woman looked up at me with shock, “That room in R 4, 000 per night it will be—“

“I don’t care how expensive it is, just do it.” I slid my credit card across the desk and shot Riaan another look. Who the hell was he to tell me where I was staying?

“I’m sorry. Your card has been rejected.” The woman said handing it back to me.

“What? Impossible. Run it through again.”

I watched this time as she punched the digits into the machine and swiped my card. The machine made a beeping sound, I didn’t like that!

“I’m sorry, but this card has been cancelled.”

“What!” I screeched. “That’s impossible, do you know how much mon---“ And then it hit me- this was my fathers handy work. How dare he cancel my credit card? What was I going to do for money? How was I going to buy things? Go out? Have those African mud wraps. I opened my wallet to see how much cash I had, it was a lot, but not nearly enough to pay for a full month here.

“Where’s my aunt, I’m sure she’ll fix this?”

“She’s gone into town for a few days,” Riaan replied quickly.

“Well, why don’t I just stay in the room until she gets back, and then I’m sure she’ll sort it all out.”

I heard Riaan clear his throat behind me, “It was your aunt who said you would be staying in the staff village.”

My heart dropped, so she was in on it too. My whole family had ganged up against me. What was this, national torture Zara day? Suddenly I felt very alone. It was as if no one gave a shit.

“Fine.” I said sulkily, “I’ll go get my bags.”

Message to Clayton:

You will not believe where I’m staying. With the staff. The staff! I need to get out of here ASAP. I’m going to investigate getting a flight out tomorrow and I’ll come stay with you for the month if my father wants me out the house. Tell me what happens with Jose, I’m starved for gossip. This place is such a boring dump and the people are so last century I could die!