* * *
Due to all the sex, we arrive for the drinks a little later than the agreed meeting time, but in our defence we are not the last – unusually, Mike’s after us, and then Judith a few minutes after him – and forty-five minutes really isn’t that much time for two people to get ready for smart drinks after a day on safari even if theyhaven’tbeen having sex.
We’re served drinks and a variety of biltong-based canapés. I’m not a big dried-meat fan, so had never tasted biltong before this trip, and didn’t know much about it. Maxim tells us that it’s air-dried without heat, giving it a unique texture, and that it’s usually made from beef but can also be made from game meats such as ostrich or kudu, a type of antelope.
‘These are stunning,’ Dominic says, having just finished a biltong croquette.
‘I know.’ I pop my next canapé into my mouth. It’s a puff pastry case containing biltong cubes, halved grapes and crème fraiche – not a combination I would have imagined – and it’samazing.
Yet again, I feel a pang for my mum and the loss of my dad. They would havelovedthese drinks and the canapés. The pang, plus our lack of sleep last night and the weirdness I’m feeling in relation to Jed, mean that I don’t feel great in this moment.
‘I think your parents would have loved this.’ It’s like Dominic is a mind-reader. ‘And I think that your mum will be delighted that you’re having a wonderful time in her stead and will love hearing about it.’
‘Yes. Very true. I was feeling a little bit miserable again about Dad—’ again I’ve surprised myself by being able to mention my grief to Dominic ‘—but I think – for them – I should ignore the sadness tonight and just enjoy myself.’ And I shouldn’t think about Jed either until tomorrow.
‘Exactly. Of course you feel sad about your dad, and your mum’s loss, but also they would only want you to be happy and to live your life.’
I give an extremely unattractive, great big honking sniff and say, ‘Thank you. You know, sometimes you can be very good to talk to.’
‘That’s obviously because I’m always right.’
‘Yeah, no, I wouldn’t go that far.’ I grin at him, and then take a large sip of my very delicious champagne to recover.
We join the rest of the group, and it is of course lovely. We’re all keen to reminisce about the safari, swap other stories, laugh together. It’s unbelievable really that we’ve only known each other for three days. In fact, less than that. It feels so much longer. And with the experiences we’ve shared, I feel that we’ve really got to know each other as people. Sometimes, an intense experience over a short period can be way more bonding than much more lengthy acquaintanceships, I reflect, as Judith and I both nearly snort champagne we’re laughing so much at Mike’s wine-snob horror when Charlotte raves about some alcohol-free fizz she buys regularly.
The time whizzes by, and it’s a surprise when Maxim tells us that it’s already time to join our beach party.
‘This feels so weird,’ I say happily to Dominic as – with me holding his arm again – we make our way along the beach to where a big group has gathered around a bar and the most amazingly fancy barbecue aka thebraai. ‘New Year is supposed to be cold. And here we are on a summer’s night on the actual beach.’ It isn’tentirelyweird for me, because I did do a few New Years in Australia, but also itisstill weird. When you’ve grown up with every single festive period of your life until your mid-twenties in the northern hemisphere, a warm Christmas and New Yearisodd.
‘I know. All wrong. But in a very nice way.’
As time moves on and we head towards midnight, we all eat unbelievable burgers (I don’t want to be disloyal but these do make even my mum’s legendary barbecues slightly pale into second place) and talk, laugh, do all the usual party things, with the freedom of being with several hundred complete strangers, all of whom seem very nice and very open to chatting to anyone.
There’s music, and people begin to dance as we head towards midnight.
Dominic and I are always near each other – sometimes in the same little group, sometimes not – but I definitely always know exactly where he is in my peripheral vision, and when I sneak a glance at him he’s always looking at me too. It reminds me of being young, before my marriage, before so muchlifehappened, before all the cynicism kicked in, just flirting the night away with someone you really like.
It reminds me of my dad’s birthday party in our garden all those years ago.
And how that night ended. And yes. If I’m honest, I want a similar night tonight. Knowing what I know from earlier today, it would feel criminal not to. I’ll think about my real life when I get back to reality.
It’s so much fun: intoxicating. Each time our glances snag we share little smiles, or do extra little shimmies for each other. It’s like the promise of something more to come. Every time I catch Dominic’s eye and twirl for him and he gives me a slow, appreciative smile, Iloveit.
When the big midnight countdown comes around, Dominic and I – from the separate little groups of people we’re dancing in – look at each other, and then we both mouthExcuse meat the others and kind of converge on each other, like there’s an invisible string pulling us together.
When we reach each other, I suddenly feel a little odd. Because this – the kiss that’s surely going to happen – feels kind of premeditated, as opposed to crazy, heat-of-the-moment passion, which is what all of our previous kisses have been.
‘So, midnight.’ Dominic’s lips are quirking up into a half-smile.
‘Twelve o’clock,’ I say foolishly.
‘Yup.’
All around us, couples are coming together in pairs, and non-couples are getting together in excited groups, jumping up and down together. And presumably some other non-couples are getting together in twos and about to do things they might or might not regret…
Going by the way Dominic is now staring intently into my eyes and I am staring right back, and the way we’re edging closer and closer together, I think we might be about to do certain things too…
As we count down to zero, Dominic leans down towards me and I raise myself onto my tiptoes, and I can barely breathe from all the anticipation fizzing inside me.
