Read Acacia - Secrets of an African Painting Page 30

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE - CLOSER

  We woke the next morning with the sun just starting to peek above the horizon, gently warming our faces. Tara had continued to hold onto me during the night and I must admit the feeling had been nice. It reminded me of when were just kids and had slept out in a tent in the garden. I could feel the cold of that night even now, and the way Tara had curled into me for warmth then. Even in the warm light of the African morning, the fact she was so close didn’t worry me at all, it felt natural and I basked in the glow of the protector looking after his family.

  I still wasn’t sure what to do about Tara’s earlier behaviour though: it highlighted the fragile state of her mind. It was hard to reconcile the loving friend beside me now with the emotionally unstable individual I had been travelling with for the past few days.

  As she stirred, she turned her face towards me while at the same time opening her eyes and simply smiling the most beautiful and natural thing in the world. I smiled back, wondering if perhaps I was mistaken about her mental state.

  Just then a shot rang out. It wasn’t nearby, but close enough to shock us both into instant action. We sprang up like lovers caught out by unwitting parents. Tara’s eyes were wide, staring at me, uncomprehending but in shock.

  ‘Quick,’ I said, let’s just get out of here. I don’t know what that was about, but I don’t fancy taking any chances.’

  Tara didn’t need any convincing, so we clambered out of our sleeping bags and started to throw things into the back of the car. As soon as the last item was in, I jumped into the driving seat and started the engine, waiting only long enough for Tara to shut her door before I set off as fast as the rough terrain would allow, in the direction of the river.

  I kept an eye on the rear vision mirror for the second time in as many days, expecting to see the bakkie from Nkayi speeding along behind us. It occurred to me that these mysterious occurrences were not just random events, but that there was something going on about which we had no knowledge and which could represent the danger we had been warned of on at least two occasions now.

  Tara’s face was still, but her eyes betrayed the fear she was feeling as she stared firstly at the grass and earth in front of us and then repeatedly in the door mirror outside her window, examining the country behind us for any signs of chase. We drove for about fifteen minutes before either one of us spoke a word.

  ‘I think we should stop and turn off the engine.’ I said, without slowing down for the moment. ‘If there is anyone back there, we will be able to hear the sound of their engine.’

  Tara simply nodded her agreement to this plan, but for the next few minutes, I couldn’t quite summon up the courage to actually slow down to put the plan into action. Eventually though, I felt Tara looking at me and when I turned, she was smiling nervously.

  ‘Are you actually going to stop then, or did you plan on just running out of fuel and then checking out what’s behind us?’ Her sense of humour had obviously returned, although her voice was strained, betraying the fear she obviously felt.

  ‘You’re right, sorry, I was miles away there.’ I slowed down, concentrating hard on the rear-view mirror again, ready to accelerate at the first sign of trouble. None came and eventually I stopped the car and switched off the engine.

  We both slowly opened our doors and stepped out into the bush, the heat of the sun clutching at us with renewed vigour now. We listened hard for any sound at all that might send us on our way in a hurry again, but there was nothing, not even a faint breeze to rustle the grass. I looked across at Tara, who was still peering intently at the horizon behind us and I laughed.

  ‘God, I feel so stupid. That shot could have been from anywhere, nothing to do with us. Sound must echo around these plains for miles. I can’t believe I was so scared.’

  Tara smiled gratefully at me. ‘Well, you can’t be too sure can you?’ she said, generously letting me off the hook for the sudden flight we had taken. As she spoke, she looked around and then her face lit up as she gazed into the west. I followed the direction of her eyes and saw that the land gently sloped away from us, down towards what looked like a shallow valley, at the bottom of which I could faintly discern a narrow ribbon of water flowing through the landscape.

  ‘That’s it.’ She turned to me and smiled again, ‘That’s the Lupane, it must be. We are so close now; I just know we are so close. Look James, over there.’ She pointed further to the north, along the river valley’s length at a stand of acacia, standing tall and proud, at least twenty metres tall, tiny white flowers growing in spikes showing up on its flat-topped canopy.

  I have to admit that at that moment I felt as if we really could be close to the treasure that the Braughton’s had dreamt about for over ten decades and I ran to Tara and hugged her before we jumped into the car again and headed off towards the river.