The Hunters. Kat Gordon

pressed them onto her skin. The ant went rigid, the pincers snapped together and Abdullah twisted the body off in a quick, clean movement. ‘Very strong,’ he said.

      We looked down – the head was still hanging off Maud’s leg, but the pincers had closed the gash like a makeshift suture.

      ‘How long does it last?’ I asked.

      ‘Until skin heals,’ he said.

      ‘Thank you, Abdullah,’ Maud said. She blushed as he helped her to her feet.

      It was April, almost three months after we’d moved in, when Sylvie arrived out of the blue. I was out on the lake with Maud when I saw her sitting on our jetty, legs outstretched in the sun. She raised a hand lazily and I jumped up, almost sending us head first into the water.

      ‘Who is it?’ Maud asked.

      ‘Sylvie.’

      ‘You must have good eyesight.’

      ‘Maybe it’s because I don’t strain them reading all the time,’ I said, beginning to row us back to shore.

      ‘I didn’t know you could read?’

      ‘Very funny.’ I caught sight of a monkey-sized figure scampering between Sylvie and the edge of the jetty. ‘Look – she’s brought your husband with her.’

      Sylvie waited until the boat had bumped gently against the jetty before standing up in one slow, supple movement.

      ‘Is it nice out there?’ she asked. ‘It looks so peaceful.’

      ‘Do you want me to row you out?’

      ‘Another time.’ She was looking straight at me, and I passed a hand over my face, feeling the roughness of new hair growing around my mouth and below my ears. I was glad my voice had finally settled.

      ‘I came to invite you to see our new house,’ she said. ‘Well – our land, anyway. The house isn’t completely built yet.’

      I moored the boat and jumped up onto the landing stage. ‘Is it nearly done?’

      ‘So the builder promises us.’

      I stared at her perfect teeth and those soft-looking lips. She stared back, smiling.

      ‘Theo,’ Maud called from the boat. ‘You know I need help.’

      Sylvie laughed. Maud held out her hands and I lifted her onto the jetty. Roderigo jumped into Sylvie’s arms and she kissed his head. ‘Shall we find your mother?’ she asked us.

      ‘Lady Joan came to see her for lunch,’ Maud said. ‘They’re out on the porch now.’

      ‘The Governor’s wife?’ Sylvie peered back at the house. ‘That’s lucky – I haven’t met her yet.’

      I wondered if I should warn her about Lady Joan’s opinion of the Happy Valley set, but she’d already started walking, Maud trotting next to her. I hurried to join them.

      When we reached the house a greyhound was shivering in the sunlight at the bottom of the stairs, and Abdullah was standing nearby, like a protective parent.

      ‘Thank you for looking after Fairyfeet,’ Sylvie said softly to him. She crouched down and stroked the dog’s ears, shushing it when it whimpered. ‘She’s so scared all the time – Nico’s almost given up on her.’

      My mother came down the steps. ‘Good afternoon, Countess de Croÿ.’

      Sylvie straightened up again. ‘Oh – call me Sylvie, please.’ She looked at Lady Joan, who was still sitting on the porch. ‘It’s nice to –’

      Lady Joan cut her off with a wave of her hand. ‘No introductions necessary. Are you still with the Hamiltons?’

      ‘We’ve bought our own place actually – I’m here to invite the Millers to tea.’

      ‘How kind of you,’ my mother said. She didn’t move, and I realised she hadn’t offered Sylvie a drink, or invited her inside, or even shaken her hand. Behind me, I could sense Maud fidgeting, and Fairyfeet still whimpered softly, but otherwise a silence had descended. My mother crossed her arms in front of her chest; Lady Joan raised an eyebrow.

      I looked at Sylvie. She’d turned pale. It made her seem much younger, somehow, and helpless, and I felt a wave of anger on her behalf.

      ‘Would you like a glass of wine?’ I asked.

      My mother caught my eye and shook her head, subtly. I hurried on. ‘We don’t have champagne. I don’t know if Abdullah knows how to make whisky sours – you like those, don’t you?’

      ‘You remember.’ Sylvie smiled at me, and the colour came back into her cheeks. She looked as if she was about to refuse, then Roderigo broke the ice, jumping out of her arms and onto Maud’s shoulder.

      ‘He knows me,’ Maud said excitedly.

      Sylvie laughed. ‘He always chooses the prettiest person to sit on.’

      ‘Actually,’ I said. ‘We were going to ask your permission for Roderigo’s hand in marriage. Maud’s game.’

      ‘Theo,’ my mother said, frowning.

      ‘Maud shouldn’t be thinking about marriage yet,’ Sylvie said. ‘Not for a long time.’ She tucked a strand of hair behind Maud’s ear. ‘You’ve got much more to offer the world, haven’t you, darling?’

      There was another pause. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my mother draw herself up as if she had something important to say.

      ‘Sylvie,’ she said. ‘Won’t you join us on the veranda? What would you like to drink?’

      Sylvie drove with one hand on the wheel and the other in her lap. She was constantly looking over her shoulder to talk to Maud and drifting across the road, or skidding as we turned corners. Freddie had driven too fast, but at least he’d seemed in control.

      Cedar trees whisked past in a dark blur, and golden stalks of corn bowed their prickly heads in our wake. Fairyfeet and Roderigo trembled in Maud’s lap. We were driving towards the mountains, and I had visions of Sylvie tunnelling straight through them. She was telling us the story of their journey to Africa from France, but her words were snatched away by the wind, so I caught only a haze of dances and sea-sickness and misunderstandings.

      Then she was slowing down, turning a last corner and Nicolas was waiting to open a gate in the long hedgerow for us. We drove through and parked sharply, while Nicolas fiddled with the gate, trying to shut it again. I looked around. We were at the edge of a lush expanse of countryside, around six hundred acres or so, with a few thatched huts, gently smoking, dotted here and there in the distance. The Aberdares reared up to our right, a silvery waterfall cascading down their sides, and close by on our left the river moved sluggishly around a bend, where a deep pool had formed.

      ‘Welcome.’ Nicolas was walking towards us now, and it was only then that we noticed the smallish ball of yellow fluff, with large, ungainly feet, trotting next to him.

      ‘Is that a lion?’ Maud asked.

      ‘Our surprise,’ Sylvie said, turning in her seat. ‘Samson the lion cub.’ She looked at me, and I felt somehow she’d wanted to show him to me in particular.

      ‘Say hello to him if you like,’ Nicolas said, opening the door for Maud. Fairyfeet took the opportunity to escape, and bounded into the bushes. ‘He’s very tame.’

      We carefully approached Samson, who was sitting a few feet from the car. He was no bigger than a domestic cat, but stockier, with shorter legs. His fur was sand-coloured, and there were brown spots on his head much like a leopard. His eyes were wide and black, and his mouth was open, tongue hanging out pinkly, giving him a quizzical expression. His teeth looked sharp enough.

      I felt myself breaking into a smile, just looking at him. Here was a real, live predator. A man-killer.