a while her father had been terribly bitter about the whole thing, but later on he had employed a private detective to find him. The man had traced Shannon to Witwatersrand, but although they had written, he had never replied to any of their letters. And now her father was sick, slowly dying in fact, and in spite of everything insistent that Shannon should inherit the estate.
Now Joanna squared her shoulders, and said: ‘Well, I can assure you, I am Joanna Carne. And I do need to see my brother.’
The man considered her for a few moments longer, and then he said: ‘Does—Mr Carne expect you?’
Joanna sighed. ‘No.’ She paused. ‘He doesn’t even know I’m in Africa. Does it matter?’ She controlled a momentary irritation. ‘Is there any vehicle I can hire to get to the mine?’
‘There are no taxis here, mademoiselle.’ The man’s lips twisted derisively. ‘But …’ His appraisal abruptly ceased as he slapped at an insect crawling across his cheek. ‘Perhaps I could take you there myself.’
Joanna expelled her breath with some relief. ‘Oh, would you? I’d be very grateful, Mr—er—Mr——’
‘Just call me Lorenz,’ replied the man, turning away to shout more abuse at the flagging porters. Then: ‘Is this all your luggage?’
‘Yes.’ Joanna felt obliged to explain: ‘I left the rest at the hotel in Menawi.’
‘You did?’ The man called Lorenz raised dark eyebrows. ‘Then let us hope it is still there when you get back, eh?’
This was one worry Joanna refused to consider. ‘I’m sure it will be,’ she said equably, and allowed him to take her overnight case from her sticky fingers.
Her handbag swinging from her shoulder, Joanna stood waiting nervously for the unloading and loading to be through. The sun was burning the top of her head, and although she had piled up the honey blonde hair for coolness, damp strands were tumbling about her ears. She hoped her hair would be thick enough to withstand the heat of the sun, but she somehow doubted it. She felt as though every inch of clothing was sticking to her, and she thought longingly of pools of cool water, or the stinging spray of the shower back in the hotel. The water there had not been really cold, but it had been refreshing, and she longed to feel her skin tingling with cleanliness again after that interminable train journey. She was hot and grubby, and only the knowledge that Shannon was only seven miles away stopped her from climbing back aboard the train to Menawi.
‘Perhaps you would prefer to wait in the cabin, Miss Carne?’
Lorenz was back, indicating the driving cabin of the lorry, and after a moment’s hesitation Joanna nodded her thanks. She was glad she was wearing trousers as he helped her up. There was nothing ladylike about scrambling up iron footholds on to a seat that scorched like a hot tin roof. But she managed to smile down at her rescuer, and after a few moments of discomfort she could relax.
Flies buzzed in and out of the open doors, the noise outside had not abated, and her mouth felt dry and sandy. She had had nothing to eat or drink since breakfast in the hotel that morning, and as it was now afternoon, she was beginning to feel decidedly empty. An opened can of beer rested on the floor of the cabin, but the flies invading the twist-off lid made her feel sick.
After what seemed like hours, but which was in reality only about twenty minutes, Lorenz appeared below her. ‘Almost finished now, Miss Carne. Soon we will be on our way.’
Joanna forced a smile. ‘Oh, good.’ She shifted a little under that irritating scrutiny. ‘Will it take long? To get to the mine, I mean?’
Lorenz shrugged. ‘Twenty-five—thirty minutes, no more.’
‘So long?’ Joanna couldn’t prevent the exclamation.
Lorenz’s expression hardened. ‘Is not a good road, Miss Carne. You want I should break an axle?’
‘Oh, no, of course not.’ Joanna was quick to apologise. ‘You must forgive me. I—I’ve never been in Africa before.’
Lorenz shrugged and turned away, and Joanna looked frustratedly down at her hands. She didn’t want to antagonise the man, but thirty minutes to do seven miles seemed an exaggeratedly long time. She half wished there was some other way she could get there. She didn’t like Lorenz’s attitude towards her. She was convinced he did not believe that she was related to Shannon, and in his eyes, if she was not, what did that make her?
At last, a creaking and a heavy thud heralded the end of the delay. The lorry was loaded up, and Lorenz came to swing himself behind the wheel of the vehicle. The rank smell of sweat from his body as he levered himself into the cabin beside her made Joanna hold her breath for a moment, and his language when he accidentally kicked over the can of beer and sent a stream of brown liquid across his canvas-clad feet shocked and revolted her.
The engine of the vehicle started without trouble, and soon they were bumping over the siding, passing the shacks where groups of women watched them curiously, sounding the horn as almost naked children ran carelessly in their path. Then even those few signs of habitation were left behind, and they rolled heavily along a road split by the constant rays of the sun.
Joanna soon appreciated the wisdom of not travelling at speed. The lorry was built for carrying anything but passengers, and the end of her spine was soon numb from the buffeting it was receiving. From the somewhat sardonic glances Lorenz kept making in her direction, she guessed he knew exactly how she was feeling, and she determinedly put a brave face on it.
The sight of a herd of zebra some distance away across the plain brought a gasp of delight to her lips, and for a while she was diverted from her thoughts. Coming up from Menawi, she had seen little of the game for which West Africa was famous, and now she turned to Lorenz and asked him whether there were elephants and lions in this part of the country.
‘There is a national safari park, Miss Carne. You can see plenty of game there. Here—well, occasionally I have seen a family of lions, and once we had a rogue elephant causing trouble at the mine, but man brings death to the animals, so they stay away.’
Joanna shook her head. ‘That’s awful, isn’t it?’
‘Wealth, too, has its price, Miss Carne. Once the game was the gold of Africa, but no more.’
‘Are you—were you born in Lushasa, Mr—er—Lorenz?’
He looked her way. ‘No. I was born in the Cape, Miss Carne. That is, South Africa. But I found the—climate here more to my liking.’
Joanna acknowledged this, and for a while there was silence. Then, without preamble, he said: ‘How long is it since you have seen your—er—brother, Miss Carne?’
Joanna straightened her back. ‘Some time,’ she replied evasively. ‘Do you—do you know him well?’
‘A man in my position does not know the General Manager of the Kwyana Mine very well,’ replied Lorenz bitterly.
‘General Manager!’ Joanna’s involuntary ejaculation could not be denied. She had known her brother had taken a degree in engineering. Her father had been furious about it at the time, maintaining that an agricultural college would have served him better than a university. But obviously Shannon had put his knowledge to good use.
Lorenz was raising his eyebrows. ‘You did not know your brother
