Jackal's Dance by Beverley Harper Page A

Hewouldn’t be much help if his vehicle didn’t work. The rangers, including Caitlin, were each responsible for maintaining their allocated game-viewing vehicle. Today’s task was not hard but it had to be done.
    Thea headed slowly back to the administration office to find Billy. Sean was right. She had to tell her husband that they were expecting a baby. She’d missed three periods and, in the last couple of weeks, her nipples often tingled, had changed colour and become noticeably tender. Thea knew the signs. There were early morning bouts of nausea as well which, so far, she’d managed to hide from Billy. What eluded her was confidence.
    Where, at what point, had their relationship changed? The evening they met Thea remembered with poignant clarity. She’d been in Windhoek, staying with friends of her parents. Part of an African holiday which had taken her around South Africa and was due to continue through Botswana, Zimbabwe, Malawi and Kenya before returning to London. Her hosts introduced a few people of her own age and thanks to one of them Thea had been invited to a party. She could still see Billy as he came into the room: tall and slim, deep-set flashing dark eyes, a high-bridged almost hooked nose, dark hair. He was dressed completely in black, which served to accentuate his brooding appearance. Looking across the room he’d locked eyes with her. She had turned away, embarrassed by the flare of interest on his face. The next thing she knew, hewas standing by her side.
    â€˜Hi. I’m Billy and you are the most interesting girl in the room. Where did you spring from, who are you and will you have dinner with me tomorrow night?’
    Thea had never met anyone quite like him. She had always been attracted to boys her mother described as drawing-room types – clean-cut, dependable and totally conventional. Billy’s hair was shaggy, his tight black jeans held up by a wide leather belt which sported a large death’s-head brass buckle. She noticed a serpent tattooed on one forearm. Thea hated tattoos. And as for men wearing an ear stud, Billy’s was a dangling crucifix.
    Everything about Billy went against her well-established preferences. His eyes smouldered, he laughed too loudly, stood too close and would not take no for an answer. In the end she accepted his dinner invitation because, she told herself, it would be interesting. But, cautious as ever, Thea was sufficiently prudent to find out more about Billy from the girl who’d invited her to the party.
    â€˜He’s okay. Keeps himself to himself. Don’t lose your heart. Girls don’t last with him.’
    Thus armed, Thea told herself it would be fine. She was leaving Namibia in ten days. What could possibly happen in such a short time?
    An awful lot, as it turned out. Despite initial impressions and against her better judgment, she was at first curious, then impressed, and finally completely bowled over by Billy. Sensitivity, intelligence, humour and consideration, traits she hadn’texpected, were paraded past her like trooping of the colours. He even cleaned up his scruffy, showy appearance with a haircut and some conventional clothes. What clinched it was when he took her to Etosha and showed her Africa’s finest. Three incredible days. By the time they returned to Windhoek, Billy had secured the job of manager at Logans Island, won Thea’s heart and found a place in her bed. Even so, she congratulated herself on keeping a cool head. Thea left Namibia to continue her travels, firmly convinced that Billy was a holiday romance, a beautiful and uplifting experience that could never be sustained or repeated.
    Billy was waiting for her in London. They married and returned to Namibia just shy of three months after meeting. Back at Etosha, Thea felt like pinching herself in case such incredible happiness turned out to be a dream. Life was perfect.
    Then she discovered a few facts about her husband