basket nests, tying them to the bending tips of the reeds, fluttering
brilliant yellow wings as they worked with black heads bobbing.
On the far bank of the pool a tiny bejewelled kingfisher sat his perch
on a dead branch above the still water, plunging suddenly, a speck of
flashing blue to shatter the surface and emerge with a silver sliver
wriggling in his outsize beak. Hosts of yellow and bronze and white
butterflies lined the water's edge below where they lay, and the bees
flew like golden motes of light to their hive in the cliff, high above
the quiet pools.
The water drew all life to it, and a little after noonday David touched
Debra's arm.
The nyala are here - he whispered.
They came through the grove on the far side of the pool. Timid and
easily spooked, they approached a few cautious steps at a time before
pausing to stare about them with huge dark eyes, questing muzzles and
widespread ears; striped and dainty and beautiful they blended with the
shadows of the grove.
The does are all belly now, David told her. They'll be dropping their
lambs within the next few weeks.
Everything is fruitful. He half-turned towards her and she sensed it
and moved to meet him. When the nyala had drank and gone, and a
white-headed fish eagle circled high above them on dark chestnut wings,
chanting its weird and haunting cry, they made love in the shade beside
the quiet water.
David studied her face as he loved her. She lay beneath him with her
eyes closed, and her dark hair spread in a shiny black sheet upon the
rug. The bruise on her temple had faded to soft yellow and palest blue,
for it was two months since she had left hospital. The white fleck of
the grenade scar stood out clearly against the pale bruising. The
colour rose in Debra's cheeks, and the light dew of perspiration bloomed
across her forehead and upper lip and she made little cooing sounds, and
then whimpered softly like a suckling puppy.
David watched her, his whole being engorged and heavy with the weight of
his love. From above them an errant beam of sunlight broke through the
canopy of leaves and fell full upon her upturned face, lighting it with
a warm golden radiance so that it seemed to be the face of a madonna
from some medieval church window.
It was too much for David and his love broke like a wave, and she felt
it and cried out. Her eyes flew wide, and he looked down into their
gold-flecked depths. The pupils were huge black pools but as the
sunlight struck full into them they shrank rapidly to black pinpoints.
Even in the extremity of his love, David was startled by the phenomenon,
and long afterwards when they lay quietly together she asked, What is
it, David? Is something wrong? 'No, my darling. What could possible
be wrong? I feel it, Davey. You send out the strongest signals I am
sure I could pick them up from half-way around the world. He laughed,
and drew away from her almost guiltily.
He had imagined it perhaps, a trick of the light, and he tried to
dismiss it from his mind.
In the cool of the evening he packed up the rods and the rag and they
strolled back to where he had parked and they took the firebreak road
home, for David wanted to check the southern fence line. They had
driven for twenty minutes in silence before Debra touched his arm.
When you are ready to tell me about whatever is bugging you, I'm ready
to listen, and he began talking again to distract both her and himself,
but a little too glibly.
In the night he rose and went to the bathroom. When he returned he
stood for many seconds beside their bed looking down at her dark
sleeping shape. He would have left it then, but at that moment a lion
began roaring down near the pools. The sound carried clearly through
the still night across the two miles that separated them.
it was the excuse that David needed. He took the five cell flashlight
from his bedside table and shone it into Debra's face. it was serene
and lovely, and he felt the urge to stoop and kiss her, but instead he
called.
Debra! Wake up, darling! and she stirred and opened her eyes. He
shone the beam of the flashlight full into them and again, unmistakably,
the wide black circles of the pupils contracted.
What is it, David? she murmured sleepily, and his voice was husky as he
replied.
There is a lion holding a concert down near the pools.
Thought you might want to listen. She moved her head, averting her face
slightly, almost as though the powerful beam of the flashlight was
causing discomfort, but her voice was pleased.
Oh yes. I love that big growly sound. Where do you suppose this one is
from? David switched out the flashlight and slipped back into bed
beside her.
Probably coming up from the south. I bet he has dug a hole under the
fence you could drive a truck through. He tried to speak naturally as
they reached for each other beneath the bedclothes and lay close and
warm, listening to the far-away roaring until it faded with distance as
the lion moved back towards the reserve. They made love then, but
afterwards David could not sleep and he lay with Debra in his arms until
the dawn.
Still it was a week before David could bring himself to write the
letter: Dear Dr. Edelman, We agreed that I should write to you if any
change occurred in the condition of Debra's eyes, or her health.
Recently Debra was involved in unfortunate circumstances, in which she
was struck repeated heavy blows about the head and was rendered
unconscious for a period of two and half days.
She was hospitalized for suspected fracture of the skull, and
concussion, but was discharged after ten days.
This occurred about two months ago. However, I have since noticed that
her eyes have become sensitive to light. As you are well aware, this
was not previously the case, and she has showed no reaction whatsoever
until this time. She has also complained of severe headaches.
I have repeatedly tested my observations with sunlight and artificial
light, and there can be no doubt that under the stimulus of a strong
light source, the pupils of her eyes contract instantly and to the same
degree as one would expect in a normal eye.
It now seems possible that your original diagnosis might have to be
revised, but, and I would emphasize this most strongly, I feel that we
should approach this very carefully. I do not wish to awaken any false
or ill-founded hope.
For your advice in this matter I would be most grateful, and I wait to
hear from you.
Cordially yours, David Morgan.
David sealed and addressed the letter, but when he returned from the
shopping flight to Nelspruit the following week, the envelope was still
buttoned in the top pocket of his leather jacket.
The days settled into their calmly contented routine.
Debra completed the first draft of her new novel, and received a request
from Bobby Dugan to carry out a lecture tour of five major cities in the
United States. A Place of Our Own had just completed its thirty-second
week on the New York Times bestseller list, and her agent informed her
that she was hotter than a pistol.
David said that as far as he was concerned she was probably a lot hotter
than that. Debra told him he was a lecher, and she was not certain what
a nice girl like herself was doing shacked up with him. Then she wrote
to her agent, and refused the lecture tour.
Who needs people? David agreed with her, knowing that she had made the