THIRTY-THREE
Back at the office on Monday, Sophia received confirmation of her elevation to CFO with effect from 15 October, a little less than three months away. For one reason or another, Peter and she had been late sorting out their summer holiday and Ollie in particular had started bugging them about it, as his final term of pre-school drew to a close. While he was hell-bent on going on safari in Africa, his parents were thinking of Center Parcs at Longleat, where they could combine fun activities with a visit or two to the safari park. Ollie was at first disdainful of the idea - he wouldn't get to see any 'killings' - but in time he came round to the idea and a week's break was booked for August. At least the children wouldn't be losing out; one week there would cost them as much as two weeks in Majorca. That still left them with three weeks at home and Sophia floated the idea of getting in touch with the Ethiopian couple. Reluctant at first, Peter did a quick U-turn when his wife showed him the photo of Nyala.
'That's means "antelope", doesn't it?' he said. 'I wonder if she enjoys the hunt.'
'Why don't we invite them over and find out?'
'Splendid idea.'
So it was arranged for Neberu and Nyala to come down on the following weekend, staying over on Saturday night. Sophia herself gave the guest room a thorough cleaning - removing various items which had found their way into the room through her children's agency - and gave some thought as to what food she might serve. She was by no means a gourmet chef (she didn't enjoy cooking much, which didn't help) and she didn't want to be fussing about when she could instead be getting to know her visitors. So, in the end, she settled on an Ottolenghi tray bake she had done before to some acclaim and a simple, but very tasty, lemon ricotta cheesecake, which involved no baking and could be made in advance.
The day came and Neberu and Nyala, who had travelled to Euston by train, arrived as planned in the early afternoon so they could all go for a walk in the nearby London Wetlands Centre and see the otters being fed. Thankfully, though breezy and cool, the day was free of rain. The children were fascinated with their guests and Ollie had to be chided for staring at Neberu in particular. He took it all in good part, telling Ollie that back home in Ethiopia
he
would be the one everyone was staring at. Ollie didn't quite know how to take this, going into his shell for a while and wondering if he would really enjoy the attention. He decided that he definitely would not, especially if it meant that all the lions and crocodiles would run off, driven away by all the crowds.
Nyala was very impressed that Chloe - though only three - walked with everyone else. Out of the children's earshot, she remarked on the fact that Peter and Sophia hadn't brought a stroller along for when she got tired. Peter said that if she got really tired he would carry her on his shoulders, but they found she accepted it as normal to walk because she had been encouraged to do so from an early age. They had plenty of friends who were still pushing their children along at the age of four and they felt it wasn't much good for either their physical development or their independence.
'Or for developing inflated opinions about their own importance,' added Nyala.
'I guess it's not a problem where you come from,' said Peter, starting to monopolise the conversation with Nyala.
'Women don't walk down to the river to wash clothes with baby strapped to their back in swaddling these days, you know,' Nyala responded. 'We even have electricity now.'
'Well, I should hope so,' rejoined Peter. 'What with all those dams on the Nile.'
'You'll have to excuse my husband,' chipped in Sophia. 'He spends all his days and most of his weekends with Neanderthals.'
'Yes, I think Sophia mentioned you worked in the City,' Nyala said deadpan.
'None of his friends has read a book for years,' Sophia added.
'Jeff likes to carry a copy of the
Economist
around,' said Peter.
'Yes, but when he opens it, it's invariably the wrong way up,' said Sophia.
'When I visited Hong Kong a few years ago,' Neberu said, in that serious and rather abstracted way of his, 'I was quite shocked when I saw couples who appeared to be in their fifties wheeling around toddlers. I knew that the birth rate was very low and I supposed the government was offering incentives to couples to have babies, including fertility treatment. It was only when I walked past them that I realised they were using the strollers to transport dogs.'
'Yes, it's really weird,' said Peter. 'And they dress them up in bow ties, coats and even socks!'
'I think they want to make the dogs into little humans,' said Nyala. 'It is sad because dogs are pack animals and they like to associate with other dogs.'
'With other humans too,' said Peter, his hand brushing against Nyala's as they turned a corner in the park.
'It is sad when people want to take away what makes a dog a dog,' said Neberu. 'But whenever you have humans intervening in a situation, you are liable to lose equilibrium, so great is their desire for dominance.'
'I wouldn't mind being dominated by your manhood,' thought Sophia, imagining what lay beneath the lithe African's tight-fitting jeans.
Their conversation had to be cut short because the children were becoming crotchety through a combination of tiredness, boredom and neglect. They made their way home and Sophia showed her guests to their room and pointed out the bathroom and other facilities they might need. She told them to treat their place as their own and said they should come down to the sitting room when they were ready: they would be eating around eight, after the kids had been put to bed. Nyala took Sophia's hand to thank her, which sent an electric blot through her body. With Neberu out of the room, she was tempted to push her onto the bed and shove her hand up the light cotton skirt she was wearing, but she pulled herself together and contented herself with a squeeze of the hand and a 'thank you'.
Sophia put the finishing touches to her (or rather Ottolenghi's) lasagne and butternut squash cake and popped it in the oven, where it would stay for two hours, and made a cherry tomato, avocado, cucumber and feta salad with a simple red wine vinegar dressing. She then went upstairs and showered, tasking Peter with looking after their guests until she came down. This was a task he was more than happy to perform, especially when he saw Nyala, who had changed into a black mini dress with a plunging V-shaped neckline. The dress was so designed that the material of the first four or five inches of the dress beneath the neckline and running parallel to it was sheer. Peter thought she must be wearing a bra. The straps of the dress were certainly broad enough to accommodate one. He caught himself fantasising about unhooking it when he was wakened from his reverie by what he took to be a glimpse of red panties when she sat down. Tantalisingly, she crossed her legs and, although the dress rode further up her legs, confirmation was impossible - for now.
Upstairs, Sophia was changing into a red flared wool and silk-blend crepe knee-length dress with a high round collar and short sleeves. She had bought it shortly before her Thailand trip and hadn't worn it before. She was satisfied with the mixture of elegance and subtlety that was reflected back to her in the mirror. She was excited at the prospect of her first time with a black man - and a black woman. Unlike some of her friends, she'd never had fantasies about big black cocks. She wasn't sure why, now that she thought about it. Mind you, she'd never fantasised about women before Veronique came on the scene. What fantasies had she had as a teenager? She tried to remember. The only one she could think of was older men. She'd fancied two of her teachers and then there was the time when she was at university that she'd spent Christmas Day - or maybe it was Boxing Day - at a friend's house. She'd started flirting with her friend's father, touching his arms while talking to him animatedly and then letting her fingers touch his thigh. Nothing had come of this - the flirting was all on her side. It was funny how the memory had suddenly come back to her now.
When Sophia went downstairs, the others were in the sitting room chatting. Peter had put some music on (thankfully, not rap - it was some playlist from Spotify that he'd put together). Neberu and Nyala were on the sofa, with Peter sitting opposite them in the armchair he always liked to use - often with Chloe curled up with him, listening as he read her a book. Sophia took the chair next to Peter - something she only rarely did, as she typically spread herself out on the sofa. She was not surprised to see that Peter had made an effort sartorially. He'd put on his favourite light beige contrast trim Italian T-shirt and a pair of carbon dust slim-fit chinos. Sophia had to admit she found herself staring at him in appreciation - something that didn't happen that much these days. But her main focus was the lissom Ethiopian.
'God, I can't wait to see how well that cheetah is equipped?' Sophia thought. 'Does he spring on his prey when they least expect it? Does he stalk them? Maybe he ambushes them? Will he dig his claws into me? Will he drag me back to his lair and eat me?'
Sophia's attitude towards Nyala was rather more ambivalent. She was dressed like a tart in that ludicrously short dress, those large silver hoop earrings and her ridiculous black leather ballet flats. She had made no attempt to hide the fact that she had set her sights on
her
