Mackenzie Ford - The Clouds Beneath the Sun

Natalie nodded weakly. “Buddy” was not exactly how she would have described Russell.

Nancy Sutton eased her way forward and held out her hand for Natalie to shake. Only now did Richard Sutton relinquish control.

“My!” Mrs. Sutton said. “You are every bit as pretty as Russell said you were.” She took Natalie’s hand. “I am only sorry we have to meet in such dreadful circumstances.”

Natalie nodded again. “I’m really sorry, too, for both of you. It was brave of you to come.”

Nancy Sutton shook her head. “No,” she said in a half whisper. “When something like this happens, you want to see everything for yourself.”

“And so you shall,” interjected Eleanor, who had been listening to this exchange. “I will show you everything myself, but I must just say goodbye to Dr. Radcliffe here, who is flying to Nairobi this morning. He and I just need a few words together, then I can give you my full attention.” She beckoned to Naiva, standing by the dining table. Turning back to the Suttons, she said, “Would you like some coffee? You must have got up very early this morning, to be here by now. You must be dying for something.”

“Coffee would hit the spot,” said Richard Sutton.

“I’ll be ten minutes, no more, I promise,” said Eleanor. And she led Radcliffe away. As he went, he nodded to Natalie and mouthed, “Goodbye.”

Natalie, having gone without breakfast, suddenly realized how badly she needed a coffee herself, and she ran after Naiva to tell her to bring an extra cup.

When she returned, Nancy Sutton stood up. “Is there such a thing as a ladies’ room, my dear? The plane was tiny.” She smiled.

Natalie smiled back. “You can use the one in my tent. Come on.”

Natalie reached her tent first and showed Nancy Sutton through to the back, where the shower and latrine were located. “I think there’s everything you’ll need but shout if anything’s missing. I’ll be out front.”

“Thank you, dear. I’m sure I’ll be just fine.”

Minutes later she reappeared. Her lipstick had been freshened, her hair brushed, and a bright blue bandana had been tied around her neck. It brought out the blue in her eyes and provided a lift to her appearance, drawing the eye away from her figure. Natalie admired that.

As they returned to the refectory tent, they could see that Eleanor had reappeared. She was talking to Richard Sutton, and helping herself to coffee. She lifted the cup and addressed Natalie.

“Radcliffe got off okay. I gave him copies of your paper. I haven’t had a chance to tell you yet, but I heard this morning on the radio-telephone from Nature —it’s been accepted.”

“But that’s wonderful,” said Natalie, her features creasing into a smile. “Great news.”

Eleanor nodded sardonically, as if to say: “Yes, but…”

“What paper is this?” Richard Sutton put his coffee cup back on the table.

“Natalie discovered what we think is a wall, a shelter. Maybe man’s first construction. We think it may have been built by the individual whose knee joint Richard and Russell and Daniel found. I’m sure Russell told you—”

“Yes,” said Richard Sutton quickly. “Yes, he did.”

Eleanor nodded and looked at Nancy Sutton. “Look, if you’re rested and refreshed, why don’t I show you the gorge, the general layout and where our various finds have occurred?”

“And will Natalie come with us?” Sutton had taken off his jacket. His shirt revealed a slight build.

“I think not.” Eleanor almost snapped the words, and then seemed to regret her tone. “You can see Natalie when we return. And if we are to talk about your son, it should be confidential.”

Sutton shrugged. “So long as we can talk with Dr. Nelson afterwards, it’s fine by me.”

Eleanor led the way across to the Land Rovers.

Natalie guessed why she wanted the Suttons to herself: they could make trouble, and she needed to get across her point of view first, and uncontaminated by anything Natalie might say.

She watched them go, get into the vehicle, and drive out of the camp. She sat at the refectory table and helped herself to what was left of the coffee. She reflected, as she had reflected before, that in some ways science, though she loved it, on occasion misled her. So enamored was she of the scientific process, of publication in professional journals, where the best arguments eventually won out, that she tended to look upon her private life in the same way. In this whole murder business, she had assumed that she had the best argument, and that the judicial process—which was as rational as science—would take its course. Her evidence was, in a sense, impersonal. She had seen what she had seen, made an observation much like a scientist carrying out an experiment. It was for the court to decide the value of her observation.

But that, of course, was not how others saw it. It was not how Eleanor or Jack or Daniel saw it. It wasn’t how the local Maasai saw it, it wasn’t how Russell saw it, and, almost certainly, it wasn’t how the Suttons saw it.

Eleanor was getting her argument in first, so it would have maximum force. It was hardly scientific but it was very human.

Natalie walked back to her tent. There had been no sign of Jack and no sign of Daniel. Maybe they had gone into Karatu, for supplies. With no prospect of work today, she tried to read, while she waited for the Suttons to return from the gorge, but she found she couldn’t concentrate. She lay on her bed and, to her surprise, almost immediately felt drowsy.

That was very unlike her, she told herself. This whole business must be taking its toll.

Kees couldn’t have known, when he had told Natalie about Richard being homosexual, what effect it would have on her. But the extra level of complexity, the confusion and mystery it sowed in Natalie’s mind about the real reason for Richard’s death, only served to tire her even more. It was a conundrum she might never resolve.

She lay back on the bed. There was still no sign of Mgina …

She jerked awake when she heard a Land Rover. Lord, how long had she been asleep? Her watch said 10:45—more than two hours had passed.

She rolled off the bed and looked out of her tent. She was conscious that her shirt had come out of her trousers and, absently, she tucked it back in. Her flesh still showed scratches and bruises where she had been cut and knocked when she had fallen during the wildebeest stampede.

Jack and Daniel were getting down from one of the Land Rovers. Jack looked over and waved. She waved back. They had been shopping, for each was carrying bags, bulging leather carriers like those used by cricketers back home. Before they had gone very far, though, another Land Rover entered the camp, generating another cloud of dust. Eleanor and the Suttons were back.

Natalie tidied her bed for the second time that morning and sat on the canvas chair outside her tent as the Suttons got down from their vehicle. Eleanor was talking to Jack, then turned back to the Suttons before gesturing towards Natalie. She pointed to her watch—perhaps telling them what time lunch would be—then she trudged after Jack and Daniel.

The Suttons looked across to Natalie and started to walk towards her.

She went back into the tent and retrieved the second canvas chair. She pulled back the flap of the tent further. Someone could sit on the bottom end of the bed.

“How was the gorge? What you expected?” She waved Nancy Sutton to her own chair and waited while her husband chose which seat he wanted. He opted for the bottom end of the bed.

“Well, a gorge is a gorge,” he said, sitting down. “The heat doesn’t hit you until you are right there, and the vegetation’s pretty exotic but … well, I’d seen photographs, so yes, it was pretty much as I expected.”