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said suddenly, “now you do your legs.”
     
    He set the jar down on the table next to the bed and turned to leave.
     
    “Stratt?” she called softly, “Thank you.”
     
    He smiled, flashing perfect white teeth: a warm, welcoming smile. “It’s only a pleasure, Madame. At Malebane, we aim to please. You won’t be able to go into the sun for several days … but if you want, or rather if you are prepared to get up at three tomorrow morning, I’ll take you on a night ride to the waterhole.”
     
    “I don’t know…” she stammered, hating how insecure and indecisive she sounded.
     
    “Tell me tonight,” he said, “and see if your aunt and sister want to come along too.”
     
       As Stratt walked back to his room, he smiled to himself. Miss Prissy had really enjoyed his massage … he had seen her reactions: her closed eyes, her faint smile and dreamy look. And she had actually been quite civil to him this time … she had even thanked him. Maybe there was hope for her yet. And he had enjoyed touching her … although he had only meant to tease her like he had on the game drive … but he had become aroused as his fingers had caressed her, as he had seen the dark smudges of her nipples beneath the thin material of her dress … although that had not been the original intention. She must have felt it too, when he had moved closer.
     
                                                                                 *
     
        At about five-thirty, after three stiff whiskies, a young girl entered the pub. She must have been about nineteen or twenty (much the same age as Shilo), but she was fairly plain. Her pale cheeks were pinched from the cold and she sported a woolen cap over her straight mousy hair.  She was wearing a long corduroy skirt and scuffed suede boots. She had on a bulky jacket over her polo neck jersey.   He watched carefully to make sure she was alone, and after merely greeting the barman and ordering a cider, she too moved from the counter to a booth, and watched the television news while she sipped her drink. She was definitely not waiting for anyone as she never checked her watch and did not once glance at the door while patrons came and left. He ambled over.
     
    “Are you alone? I am, and I would love some company, especially from such a pretty, young thing like you. May I join you for a drink?” he asked.
     
    At first she seemed surprised and a little reluctant, but flattered all the same, and after a few more complimentary remarks, she finally gave in and he settled himself opposite her in the dimly lit booth. Things were just going so well tonight.
     
          The rest was so easy. She was going to walk home, so he offered her a lift. She was obviously very impressed with the BMW and sympathized with the stories of his recently deceased wife. She did not even see it coming. He pointed at something to the left, and when she turned to look out of the car window, he picked up the hammer and bashed it into her skull.
     
         He loaded her into the trunk, and drove out of Pennington-on-Dee into a quiet lane in a forest on the outskirts. There he draped her, face first, over a tree stump, so that the blood from her head wound drained onto the snow.  He looked at her for several minutes, and then left.
     
       Twenty minutes later, he was speeding southwards towards London, belting out ‘Oh Sol La Mia’ at the top of his voice. The woman had found him so becoming, so appealing. Why didn’t Shilo want him as badly?
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER 3
     
       That night the lodge guests, who numbered nearly twenty in total, were treated to a campfire and a traditional South African braaivleis (7) . Michaela and Shilo sat with several others around the roaring pyre on tree stumps and logs. Africa at night was spectacular. The night sky was so