The Clouds Beneath the Sun by Mackenzie Ford Read Free Book Online

evening, everyone walks up and down the main street of town, looking at everyone else, who they are with, what they are wearing … it’s just like that here in the bush. The animals come out and are on a sort of parade.”
    “Hmm,” growled Christopher. “With one big difference. Here, one half of the animals are trying to eat the other half.”
    As he said this half a dozen zebra ran across their line of sight, obviously fleeing from something.
    “Do you miss Amsterdam, Kees?” said Natalie. “I’ve only been once. I loved it. The trees, the canals, the narrow houses …”
    Kees smiled. “I don’t miss it because I know I’m going back. If I couldn’t go back I’d be very unhappy. The best thing about Amsterdam are the bicycles. Because of all the canals, the streets are narrow, so the traffic is slow, and everyone uses bicycles. The city is small so nowhere is more than fifteen minutes’ ride from anywhere else. That means you see more of your friends in Amsterdam than in other major cities. And because of that you have more friends than in other major cities.” He leaned forward and tapped Natalie on the shoulder. “Were you on holiday when you visited?”
    “Yes and no. My parents were singing in a choir, in a choir competition, and they had reached the final. I was just a girl and was taken along. Their choir lost but I loved the city. The contest was part of a flower festival.”
    Kees nodded. “Yes, I was going to say that, after the bicycles, the next best thing about Amsterdam are the flowers. There are endless flower festivals of one sort or another, and flower sellers at every corner. Do you sing, now you’re older?”
    Natalie made a face. “Sore point. I do sing, yes, and not badly. My parents wanted me to have a musical career but I preferred science. We fought like mad about that, but they eventually gave way, when I got my place at Cambridge.”
    “I went to a geological conference in Cambridge. Lots of bicycles there too. Do you live in college?”
    “Yes, I do. You?”
    “We don’t have colleges. I share one of those narrow houses you admired, with someone else, a wine merchant who plays the cello.”
    Natalie colored. It was silly. Kees couldn’t know about her complicated relationship with the cello, but she couldn’t help herself. Would she ever be able to hear the cello again without thinking of Dominic, without rerunning rapidly the entire course of the affair, itself not unlike a piece of music, with a rousing opening, a serene middle, and a sad coda. How she fought with herself to prevent that loop in her brain from springing to life, like a wild animal disturbed in its sleep.
    And must all conversation, from now on, carry a hidden menace, the possibility that it would lead, as this one had, in directions she would rather avoid? How long would she be a prisoner?
    Thankfully, the camp came into view, across the gorge. Christopher slowed, the vehicle giving off a succession of creaks and groans as they descended the bank, scattering a troop of monkeys with the vehicle’s headlights.
    “Which are the bigger nuisance in the camp,” said Kees, “monkeys or baboons?”
    “Oh, monkeys,” said Christopher, “baboons are—”
    “Stop!” cried Natalie. “Christopher, stop! Look!”—and she pointed.
    “Where? At what?” he replied, braking hard, so that the Land Rover’s engine shuddered and stalled.
    “Sorry,” breathed Natalie. “I didn’t mean to sound so excitable but isn’t that … doesn’t that look to you like a Wellington boot?”
    Christopher leaned forward and peered to where she was pointing. “You know, I think you could be right,” he said slowly. “Do you want to get it?”
    Natalie got down, while Christopher restarted the engine. She retrieved the boot and carried it back to the Land Rover. “It looks like it’s torn, ripped near the ankle,” she said, getting back in. “But it can be repaired.”
    “Well done,” said Christopher. “We