after you had left." Boussier hesitated delicately. "He wanted to go
upstairs, to the women."
"Damn him." Bruce felt his anger coming again. "What happened?"
"Your sergeant major, the big one, dissuaded him and took him away."
"Thank God for Ruffy."
"I leave reserved a place for you to sleep." Boussier pointed to a
comfortable leather armchair. "You must be exhausted."
"That is kind of you," Bruce thanked him. "But first I
must inspect our defences."
Bruce woke with Shermaine leaning "over the chair and tickling his nose.
He was fully dressed with his helmet and rifle on the floor beside him
and only his boots unlaced.
"You do not snore, Bruce," she congratulated him, laughing her small
husky laugh. "That is a good thing." He struggled up, dopey with sleep.
"What time is it?"
"Nearly five o'clock. I have breakfast for you in the kitchen."
"Where is Boussier?"
"He is dressing; then he will start moving them down to the train."
"my mouth tastes as though a goat slept in it." Bruce moved his tongue
across his teeth, feeling the fur on them.
"Then I shall not kiss you good morning, mon capitaine." She
straightened up with the laughter still in her eyes. "But your toilet
requisites are in the kitchen. I sent one of your gendarmes to fetch
them from the train. You can wash in the sink." Bruce laced up his boots
and followed her through into the kitchen, stepping over sleeping bodies
on the way.
"There is no hot water," Shermaine apologized.
"That is the least of my worries." Bruce crossed to the table and opened
his small personal pack, taking out his razor and soap and comb.
"I raided the chicken coop for you," Shermaine confessed.
"There were only two eggs. How shall I cook them?" soft boiled, one
minute." Bruce stripped off his jacket and shirt, went to the sink and
filled it. He sluiced his face and lifted handfuls of water over his
head, snorting with pleasure.
Then he propped his shaving mirror above the taps and spread soap on his
face. Shermaine came to sit on the draining board beside him and watched
with frank interest.
"I will be sorry to see the beard go," she said. "It looked like
the pelt of an otter, I liked it."
"Perhaps I will grow it for you one day." Bruce smiled at her. "Your
eyes are blue, Shermaine."
"It has taken you a long time to find that out," she said and pouted
dramatically. Her skin was silky and coollooking, lips pale pink without
make-up. Her dark hair, drawn back, emphasized the high cheek bones and
the size of her eyes.
"In India "slier" means "tiger"," Bruce told her, watching her from the
corner of his eye. Immediately she abandoned the pout and drew her lips
up into a snarl. Her teeth were small and very white and only slightly
uneven. Her eyes rolled wide and then crossed at an alarming angle. She
growled. Taken by surprise, Bruce laughed and nearly cut himself.
"I cannot abide a woman who clowns before breakfast. It ruins my
digestion," he laughed at her.
"Breakfast!" said Shermaine and uncrossed her eyes, jumped off the
draining board and ran to the stove.
"Only just in time." She checked her watch. "One minute and twenty
seconds, will you forgive me?"
"This once only, never again."
Bruce washed the soap off his face, dried and combed his hair and came
to the table.
She had a chair ready for him.
"How much sugar in your coffee?"
"Three, please." Bruce chopped the top off his egg, and she brought the
mug and placed it in front of him.
"I like making breakfast for you." Bruce didn't answer her.
This was dangerous talk. She sat down opposite him, leaned forward on
her elbows with her chin in her hands.
"You eat too fast," she announced and Bruce raised an eyebrow.
"But at least you keep your mouth closed." Bruce started on his second
egg.
"How old are you?" "Thirty, said Bruce.
"I'm twenty - nearly twenty-one."
"A ripe old age."
"What do you do?"
"I'm a soldier," he answered.
"No, you're not."
"All right, I'm a lawyer."
"You must be clever," she said solemnly.
"A genius, that's why I'm here."
"Are you married?"
"No - I was.
What is this, a formal interrogation?"
"Is she dead?"
"No." He prevented the hurt from showing in his face, it was easier to
do now.
"Oh!" said Shermaine. She picked up the teaspoon and concentrated on
stir ing his coffee.
ease
"is she pretty?"
"No - yes, I suppose so."
"Where is she?" Then
quickly, "I'm sorry it's none of my business." Bruce took the coffee
from her and drank it. Then he looked at his watch.
"It's nearly five fifteen. I must go out and get Mike Haig."
Shermaine stood up quickly.
"I'm ready."
"I know the way - you had better get down to the station."
"I want to come with you."
"Why?"
"Just because, that's why."
Searching for a reason. "I want to see the baby again."
"You win."
Bruce picked up his pack and they went through into the lounge.
Boussier was there, dressed and efficient. His men were nearly ready to
move.
"Madame Cartier and I are going out to the mission to fetch the doctor.
We will be back in half an hour or so. I want all your people aboard by
then."
"Very well, Captain." Bruce called to Ruffy who was standing on the
verandah.
"Did you load those supplies for the mission?"
"They're in the back of the Ford, boss."
"Good. Bring all your sentries in and take them down to the station.
Tell the engine driver to get steam up and keep his hand on the
throttle. We'll shove off as soon as I get back with Lieutenant Haig."
"Okay, boss." Bruce handed him his pack. "Take this down for me, Ruffy."
Then his eyes fell on the large heap of cardboard cartons at Ruffy's
feet. "What's that?" Ruffy looked a little embarrassed. "Coupla bottles
of beer, boss. Thought we might get thirsty going home."
"Good for you!" grinned Bruce. "Put them in a safe place and don't drink
them all before I get back."
"I'll save you one or two," promised Ruffy.
"Come along, tiger girl," and Bruce led Shermaine out to the Ford.
She sat closer to him than the previous day, but with her legs curled up
under her, as before. As they crossed the causeway she lit two
cigarettes and passed one to him.
"I'll be glad to leave this place," she said, looking out across the
swamp with the mist lifting sluggishly off it in the dawn, hanging in
grey shreds from the fluffy tops of the papyrus grass.
"I've hated it here since Paul died. I hate the swamp the
mosquitoes and the jungle all around. I'm glad we're going." "Where will
you go?" Bruce asked.
"I haven't thought about it. Back to Belgium, I suppose.
Anywhere away from the Congo. Away from this heat to a country where you
can breathe. Away from the disease and the fear. Somewhere so that I
know tomorrow I will not have to run. Where human life has meaning, away
from the killing and the burning and the rape." She drew